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NEVER  GIVE  UP; 

OR, 

HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY 


EDITED  BY 
MRS.    M.    H.  ADAMS. 


Forth  to  the  world,  thou  messenger  of  truth, 
And  peace,  and  love  !   Thy  benediction  breathe 
On  hearts  now  waiting  for  thee  !    Humbly  speak 
In  Christ's  good  name,  and  in  his  spirit's  power  ; 
And  heaven  shall  own  thy  mission. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  JAMES   M.  USHER, 

No.  37  Oornhill. 
1  850. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848,  by 

JAMES  M.  USHER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  oi  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


^  JZ3H 


PREFACE. 


The  attention,  encouragement  and  support,  which 
our  little  Annual  has  received  from  contributors,  read- 
ers and  patrons,  have  called  for  another  volume,  with 
improvements  on  the  past.  May  it  follow  its  predeces- 
sors wherever  thev  have  gone,  and  go  where  they  have 
not  been. 

"We  fully  appreciate  the  disinterested  labors  of 
our  contributors,  and  here  express  our  thanks  for  the 
assistance  rendered.  A  glance  at  the  names  of  these 
contributors,  and  the  assurance  we  can  give  of  their 
interest  in  the  improvement  of  the  youth  growing  up 
around  us,  we  hope  will  inspire  our  young  friends  and 
the  public  with  fresh  confidence  in  the  moral  power  of 
the  little  book. 

At  the  time  of  the  appearance  of  the  Annual  for 
1848,  the  editor  had  supposed  her  earthly  labors  ended  ; 
But  it  pleased  the  Father  of  mercies  to  delay  the  angel 
of  death,  and  restore  her  again  to  her  humble  place 
with  mortals,  where  she  would  consecrate  her  feeble 
powers  anew  in  the  cause  of  his  holy  truth.  May  his 
approving  blessing  rest  on  this  effort ! 

M.  H.  A. 

1* 


CONTENTS. 


PAGS 

Oberlin,  11 

Scraps  for  Children,  24 

The  Little  Adventurers,  31 

The  Careless  Dart,   ......  36 

The  Red  and  White  Rose,   41 

A  Short  Story  for  Little  Readers,  .........  44 

The  Brazen  Serpent,  51 

The  Miracles  of  Christ,  .............  53 

How  do  you  know  he 's  honest  ?.........  61 

The  Spirit  Child,  ................  65 

The  Complaint,  74 

How  Children  may  be  happy,  76 

Ellen  Grant,  88 

Children  in  Trade,  100 

The  Christian's  Reward,  104 

Nature  hath  voices  and  speaketh  wisdom,  106 

Napoleon,  115 

Our  Bibles,  121 

The  Pool  of  Siloam,  133 


CONTENTS. 


My  Mother's  Voice,  135 

Saturday  Afternoon,  137 

Heaven  Here,  141 

A  Soldier  of  the  right  kind,  143 

A  Story  of  my  Childhood,  146 

Sunday  Morning,  152 

Hymn,  159 

The  Declaration  of  Independence,  161 

Extract  from  an  Address  on  the  Death  of  a  Child,  .  .164 
Sabbath  Morning,  169 


OBERLIN. 


EY  MRS.  M.  H.  ADAMS. 

To  the  boys  who  are  striving  for  self-improve- 
ment, the  character  of  Oberlin  will  present  a 
beautiful  and  wonderful  example  of  the  excel- 
lence to  which  young  men  and  lads  can  attain, 
by  a  steady  perseverance,  and  firm  trust  in  their 
own  power,  attended  by  an  humble  reliance  on 
the  assistance  of  God  in  every  good  enterprise. 
You  will  learn,  from  his  history,  how  by  the 
former  you  may  be  enabled  to  overcome  difficul- 
ties before  which  many  falter  and  become  dis- 
couraged, and  how,  by  a  practical  belief  in  the 
goodness  of  God,  you  will  be  sustained  and 
borne  through  trials  which  cannot  be  avoided. 
You  will  find  in  his  life  an  example  of  purity, 
holiness,  piety,  faith,  and  love,  not  often  presented 
to  youth,  worthy  of  your  acceptance  and  imita- 
tion. All  that  is  taught  us  by  the  actual  life  of 
a  good  man  is  as  worthy  of  remembrance  as 
his  words  :  the  latter  we  call  his  precepts,  his 
theory ;  the  former  his  example,  his  practice  ; 
and  you  all  know  that  theory  without  practice 
cannot  benefit  you,  that  precept  without  example 


12 


OBERLIN. 


is  worthless  information,  a  dead  letter.  In  this 
sketch  you  obtain  only  a  glimpse  of  his  right- 
eousness, simply  an  inkling  of  thoughts,  habits, 
and  feelings  which  I  would  willingly  transcribe 
at  length  for  your  benefit,  had  I  room. 

JOHN  FREDERIC  OBERLIN. 

This  worthy  man  was  born  at  Strasborg,  in 
Germany,  August  31,  1740.  He  was  one  of 
seven  boys,  and  had  two  sisters.  His  father  was 
an  educated,  respectable  man,  in  comfortable 
circumstances,  but  not  rich.  He  loved  his 
children  tenderly,  and  devoted  all  his  hours  of 
leisure  to  their  instruction.  The  book  education 
which  John  Frederic  received  was  no  more  than 
any  studious  boy  may  obtain  in  the  Grammar 
Schools  of  New  England.  With  what  he  did 
obtain,  however,  he  set  out  in  life,  determined  to 
be  a  ma?i.  Perhaps  the  idea  originated  with 
his  parents,  whose  life  and  habits  were  intended 
to  influence  itheir  children  in  favor  of  virtue  and 
piety. 

In  the  life  of  Frederic  their  wishes  were 
crowned  with  the  most  gratifying  success.  He 
was  an  amiable,  benevolent  boy,  noble  in  his 
motives,  and  regardless  alike  of  praise  or  censure, 
when  he  knew  he  was  doing  right.  Many 
instances  are  given,  in  his  history,  where  self- 


OBERLIN. 


13 


denial  seemed  to  be  the  ruling  principle  of  his 
life,  which  was  in  fact  a  series  of  the  most  decided 
and  commendable  acts  of  self-denial  and  gener- 
osity. In  many  little  acts  of  his  childhood  we 
see  the  beginning  of  that  truly  Christian  dis- 
position that  produced  such  remarkable  fruits  in 
his  after  life. 

When  Mr.  Oberlin's  boys  were  small,  he  took 
them  every  Thursday  evening  in  summer  out  to 
his  family  estate,  not  far  from  their  residence  in 
Strasborg.  He  used  to  fasten  an  old  drum 
round  his  waist,  while  out  there,  and,,  preceding 
the  seven  blooming  boys  as  their  drummer,  exer- 
cised them  in  military  tactics.  This  kindled  in 
Frederic's  mind  a  strong  desire  to  become  a  mil- 
itary character.  At  every  opportunity,  he  would 
mingle  with  the  soldiers,  and  march  with  them, 
and  really  excelled  in  the  evolutions.  The 
love  for  military  exercises  increased  till  checked 
by  his  father,  who  told  him  it  was  time  to 
renounce  child's  play  for  study  and  serious  labor. 
His  father  wished  him  to  follow  a  learned  profes- 
sion. He  readily  coincided  in  his  father's  views, 
and  devoted  himself  quite  as  earnestly  to  study 
and  books  as  he  had  done  to  his  favorite  amuse- 
ments. 

His  biographers  do  not  know  what  circum- 
stances induced  him  to  become   a  minister. 


14 


OBERLIN. 


Probably  the  first  inclination  was  awakened  by 
the  devotional  habits  of  his  pious  and  accom- 
plished mother.  She  was  a  truly  admirable 
woman ;  and  Frederic  often  said  he  was  indebted 
to  her  for  his  love  of  "  things  that  are  excellent," 
and  his  desire  to  be  good  to  others.  He  was 
ordained  for  the  ministry  soon  after  he  was 
twenty  ;  but  it  was  several  years  before  he  was 
settled  as  a  pastor.  His  first  engagement  was  at 
the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  situated  in  the  north-east 
part  of  France. 

This  ban  or  district  was  divided  into  two 
parishes  ;  and  one  parish  was  made  up  of  five 
little  hamlets,  or  clusters  of  houses.  Oberlin 
lived  at  Waldbach,  the  most  central  of  these 
little  villages.  I  can  give  my  readers  but  a  very 
meagre  description  of  the  condition  of  these 
parishes  when  Oberlin  became  their  minister,  or 
of  the  ignorance  and  obstinacy  of  the  people 
there.  The  barrenness  of  the  land  in  some 
parts  of  it  may  be  understood,  when  you  know 
that  the  wife  could  carry  home  in  her  apron  all 
the  hay  which  her  husband  could  mow  on  a  long 
morning  ;  and  the  moral  condition  of  the  people 
was  equally  deplorable.  Surely  no  man  would 
have  accepted  this  field  of  labor  but  one  whose 
singleness  of  heart  would  bid  him  forsake  all  for 
Christ. 


OBERLIN. 


15 


On  his  arrival  at  Waldbach,  he  occupied  the 
parsonage  house,  a  tolerably  commodious  build- 
ing, having  a  yard  in  front,  a  garden  behind,  the 
church  quite  near,  and  woody  dells  and  gray 
mountains  all  around  it.  He  was  soon  con- 
vinced that  no  ordinary  difficulties  lay  between 
him  and  the  salvation  of  his  people.  It  was 
then  his  confidence  in  God  was  beautifully  man- 
ifested. He  said  he  knew  that  strength  would 
be  given  him,  if  asked  in  faith,  and  it  was  really 
right  that  he  should  effect  such  a  result ;  accord- 
ingly, he  employed  all  his  attainments  in  science, 
philosophy,  and  religion,  for  their  improvement, 
temporally  and  spiritually.  Could  you  know  one 
half  the  difficulties  that  he  encountered,  you 
would  say  that  many  men  of  any  age  of  the 
world  would  have  forsaken  the  field  and  felt  fully 
justified.  Preaching  there  was  toil ;  social  in- 
tercourse was  toil ;  domestic  improvement  could 
scarcely  be  effected  by  the  most  patient  and 
incessant  toil ;  and  all  that  seemed  to  offer  itself 
to  the  Christian  Oberlin  was  a  call  for  indefati- 
gable toil. 

From  time  to  time  he  received  letters  from  his 
worthy  predecessor,  offering  excellent  counsel 
and  great  encouragement  to  him  to  persevere  in 
his  labors.  These  letters  afforded  him  great  joy, 
for  his  friend  could  not  but  know  how  laborious 
2 


16 


OBERLIN. 


his  efforts  must  be,  and  if  he  could  urge  him  on 
surely,  then,  himself  might  trust  and  go  on. 

For  some  months,  or  years  it  may  be,  his 
younger  sister,  Sophia,  superintended  his  domes- 
tic affairs,  aided  by  his  mother  frequently.  But 
they  failed  to  bestow  that  sympathy  and  cordial 
devotion  to  the  good  of  the  people  which  he 
believed  he  needed ;  therefore  he  sought  a  com- 
panion in  his  labors.  He  married  Miss  Mada- 
leine  Witter,  July  6th,  1768.  Mrs.  Oberlin 
became  an  invaluable  assistant  to  her  husband  in 
all  his  labors.  To  the  arduous  work  of  uproot- 
ing the  prejudices  of  an  ignorant  peasantry,  these 
worthy  Christians  consecrated  themselves  by 
prayer  to  God,  and  a  written  covenant  with  the 
Holy  Spirit. 

I  can  give  you  but  a  single  instance  of  Ober- 
lin's  remarkable  perseverance  against  the  sus- 
picions and  resistance  of  the  people  in  relation 
to  his  plans.  Their  roads  were  actually  impass- 
able most  of  the  year.  He  proposed  to  them  to 
build  a  new  and  substantial  one  to  Strasborg. 
He  suggested,  planned,  answered  objections, 
proved  its  practicability  ;  but  not  a  man  in  all  the 
parish  would  start,  till  he  actually  shouldered 
his  pick-axe,  and  with  a  faithful  servant,  broke 
ground  for  the  new  road.  Having,  in  repeated 
instances,  pursued  a  similar  course,  he  at  length 


OBERLIN. 


established  himself  in  their  confidence,  and  could 
the  more  effectually  guide  them  in  their  spiritual 
course.  He  felt  an  equal  solicitude  in  all  that 
pertained  to  the  pastoral  office.  His  sermons, 
his  conversation,  his  Thursday  lectures,  his  New 
Year  addresses,  his  Sabbath  school  labors,  all 
bear  testimony  to  the  scrupulously  prayerful 
devotion  which  he  ever  manifested  for  their 
"  growth  in  grace,"  and  the  knowledge  of  truth. 

Oberlin  was  especially  attentive  to  the  children 
and  youth  of  his  parish.  He  established  infant 
schools  for  the  little  ones,  others  for  the  older 
children,  a  miscellaneous  library  for  the  use  of 
all,  and  reserved  the  religious  education  of  the 
children  entirely  to  himself.  He  formed  a 
"  Christian  Society,"  and  presented  twenty-seven 
precepts  for  the  observation  of  the  members.  I 
can  only  present  you  a  few,  as  a  specimen  of  the 
character  of  the  whole.  "  Regeneration.  We 
are  all  one  in  Christ  Jesus.  Bring  forth  much 
fruit.  Nourish  the  inner  man  by  the  Word  of 
God,  by  continued  prayer,  by  the  frequent  use  of 
the  holy  sacrament.  All  the  members  ought  to 
watch  over  each  for  good  ;  to  exhort  and  to  warn 
each  other,  with  sweetness,  charity,  humility  and 
patience.  Lose  no  time.  Honest  and  exact  pay- 
ment. No  artfulness  or  cunning.  Provoke  unto 
good  works."    Its  object  was  religious  conversa- 


18 


OBERLIN. 


tion  and  prayer.  It  effected  considerable  good 
during  its  continuance. 

Mrs.  Oberlin  died  in  1784,  having  passed  six- 
teen years  of  married  life  with  her  beloved  hus- 
band, and  leaving  seven  children.  He  was  for 
some  time  quite  overcome  by  the  intelligence  of 
her  sudden  death ;  but  not  for  a  moment  did 
he  doubt  the  mercy  of  God.  His  patient 
resignation  in  affliction  was  worthy  the  strictest 
imitation.  In  1793,  his  oldest  son,  Frederic, 
entered  the  army,  and  was  among  the  first  who 
were  killed.  Oberlin  was  strongly  attached  to 
him,  but  his  humble  submission  and  even  cheer- 
ful resignation  to  this  severe  dispensation,  seemed 
fully  equal  to  the  love  he  cherished  towards  his 
first-born,  and  his  confidence  in  the  unchangea- 
ble goodness  of  God  sustained  him  in  this  second 
severe  trial.  The  only  change  to  be  perceived 
in  his  family,  after  these  distressing  events,  was 
an  air  of  quiet  seriousness,  in  place  of  that  in- 
spiring cheerfulness  which  before  had  place  there. 
Their  usual  manner  of  conversation  was  unin- 
terrupted. They  spoke  of  Frederic  as  one  gone 
before  them  to  heaven,  but  not  as  of  the  dead. 

During  the  rage  of  the  French  Eevolution, 
clergymen  stood  in  jeopardy  everywhere.  Tal- 
ents, property,  popularity,  could  save  none  ;  yet 
the  benevolence,  humility,  and  simple  piety,  of 


OBERLIN. 


19 


the  Christian  Oberlin  saved  him  and  his  little 
flock  from  imprisonment  and  interruption  in  their 
pursuits.  Indeed,  his  home  became  the  asylum 
for  the  terrified  of  every  rank  and  profession. 
This  sketch  will  not  allow  me  to  insert  a  very 
interesting  document,  called  forth  by  the  circum- 
stances of  that  alarming  period,  which  this  faithful 
pastor  addressed  to  the  young  men  of  his  parish. 
Thus  he  made  every  event  profitable  in  some 
view  to  his  dear  people.  During  the  Kevolution 
he  was  denied  his  customary  fee  from  govern- 
ment, and  was  supported  by  voluntary  contribu- 
tions of  his  parishioners.  The  only  uneasiness 
he  felt,  was  that  his  means  of  doing  good  were 
limited.  To  enable  himself  still  to  devote  three 
tithes  of  all  he  possessed  to  religious  purposes 
and  the  poor,  which  he  conscientiously  believed 
to  be  his  duty,  and  that  he  might  still  aid  the 
institutions  in  his  parish,  he  received  into  his 
family  several  children  of  distinguished  foreign- 
ers to  educate,  and  generously  devoted  his  re- 
munerations to  those  purposes. 

He  possessed  much  of  the  genuine  missionary 
spirit.  At  one  time,  in  the  early  part  of  his 
ministry,  hp  learned  that  a  pastor  had  been 
sought  two*  years,  for  a  station  in  Pennsylvania ; 
and,  as  he  believed  one  might  more  easily  be 
obtained  for  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  he  expressed 
2* 


20 


OBERLIN. 


a  readiness  to  go,  just  as  the  war  between  Eng- 
land and  America  broke  out.  From  that  time  he 
was  proof  against  requests  to  leave,  from  any 
source.  This  extreme  devotedness  to  his  flock 
caused  him  to  be  revered  as  a  father,  and  loved 
as  a  faithful  Christian,  by  all ;  his  name  was 
affectionately  called,  his  unexampled  zeal  in  the 
work  of  his  divine  Master  applauded,  in  lands 
far  away  from  the  quiet  valley  of  the  Vosges. 

He  entered  with  much  delight  into  the  plan  of 
operation  of  the  "  British  and  Foreign  Bible  So- 
ciety," became  a  correspondent  of  it,  aided  in 
distributing  Bibles  in  the  ban  and  vicinity,  and 
among  Catholics.  Happy  would  the  event  be 
for  humanity,  if  the  tolerant  spirit  of  the  pious 
Oberlin  were  more  widely  diffused  among  the 
disciples  of  Christ !  He  administered  the  sacra- 
ment to  Catholics,  Calvin ists,  and  Lutherans,  at 
the  same  time,  having  different  kinds  of  bread 
on  the  plate,  that  all  might  partake  and  not  be 
offended.  His  only  question  was,  —  "Are  you 
a  Christian  ?  If  so,  we  are  of  the  same  re- 
ligion. Follow  the  law  of  the  Saviour ;  all 
other  laws  are  of  little  importance."  The  same 
spirit  led  him  to  extend  Christian  kindness  to  his 
Jewish  neighbors. 

The  population  of  the  Ban  de  la  Roche  in- 
creased from  eighty  families  to   five  or  six 


OBERLIN. 


21 


hundred,  or  three  thousand  souls,  while  Oberlin 
lived  with  them.  Various  employments  were 
introduced,  which  yielded  ample  support  to  the 
inhabitants  until  the  introduction  of  machinery. 
This  threatened  gloom  and  despair  for  these 
good  people.  But  such  a  consequence  was 
averted  by  the  two  kind-hearted  sons  of  Mr.  Le- 
grand,  who  established  a  ribbon  manufactory 
there,  distributing  the  looms  about  the  cottages 
for  the  children  to  work  upon  them,  and  still  be 
under  the  eye  of  parents. 

As  Oberlin  became  too  infirm  to  discharge  his 
parochial  duties,  his  son  Henry  came  from  Rus- 
sia to  reside  near,  and  assist,  his  father.  This 
son  died  when  Oberlin  was  seventy-seven  years 
old.  Still  the  blessing  of  the  God  whom  he 
so  faithfully  served  descended  upon  his  parish ; 
useful  improvements  increased,  prosperity  and  civ- 
ilization advanced.  A  traveller  in  the  ban  once 
said  he  never  before  saw  the  people  who  were  so 
universally  courteous  and  refined  in  their  man- 
ners, and  at  the  same  time  so  poor.  He  attrib- 
uted it  to  the  influence  of  the  example  of  the 
good  old  pastor.  His  son-in-law,  Mr.  Graff,  suc- 
ceeded Henry  Oberlin,  as  assistant  to  the  father. 

His  last  illness  attacked  him  suddenly,  and 
was  short.  On  Sunday,  May  28th,  1826,  he  was 
seized  with  fainting  and  shivering.    He  was 


22 


OBERLIN. 


conscious  at  intervals  for  several  days.  At  a 
quarter  after  eleven  on  Thursday  morning,  June 
1st,  he  died  ;  and  the  solemn  tolling  of  the  chapel 
bell  told  the  people  of  that  rural  valley  that  their 
pastor  was  dead.  The  whole  people  wept.  His 
funeral  took  place  on  the  5th  of  June.  As  the 
funeral  procession  started  from  the  house,  a  cler- 
gyman laid  the  clerical  robe  of  Oberlin  upon  his 
coffin,  another  placed  his  Bible  there,  and  a  civil 
officer  affixed  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  which  Oberlin  always  wore,  to  the  funer- 
al pall.  Twelve  young  females,  standing  round 
the  bier,  then  sung  a  hymn.  At  two  o'clock  the 
procession  left  the  parsonage.  The  oldest  inhab- 
itant of  the  parish  walked  before  the  coffin, 
bearing  a  wooden  cross  to  be  placed  over 
his  tomb,  on  which  was  inscribed,  —  PAPA 
OBERLIN. 

He  was  to  be  interred  at  Foudai,  one  of  the 
villages  of  his  parish.  The  first  of  the  procession 
reached  the  church  there  before  the  last  left  the 
house,  at  a  distance  of  two  miles.  A  new  bell 
at  Foudai,  prepared  by  the  proprietor  of  the 
ribbon  manufactory,  was  heard  to  toll  for  the  first 
time,  as  the  sad  procession  entered  the  village. 
The  burial  ground  was  surrounded  by  Roman 
Catholic  women,  dressed  in  mourning  and  kneel- 
ing in  silent  prayer    Three  fourths  of  the 


OBERLIN. 


23 


people  remained  without  the  church  in  silence 
and  tears  during  the  lengthy  services. 

A  manuscript  autobiography  of  the  lamented 
pastor  was  read  in  which  Oberlin  wrote  most 
affectionately  of  his  family,  his  friends,  and  his 
"dear  parish;"  expressed  his  faith  in  the  good- 
ness of  God  towards  them  all ;  and  commended 
all  to  the  guidance  and  mercy  of  that  God  whom 
he  had  preached.  One  clergyman  then  read  a 
part  of  the  103d  Psalm,  and  the  14th  verse  of 
the  7th  chapter  of  Revelation,  which  Oberlin  had 
selected  as  texts  for  his  funeral  sermon.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  sermon  the  whole  congre- 
gation kneeled  and  repeated  in  concert  a  beauti- 
ful prayer.  A  hymn  was  sung,  and  the  body 
taken  to  the  grave-yard.  He  was  buried  under 
the  shade  of  a  weeping  willow,  planted  over  his 
son  Henry.  At  the  tomb  a  clergyman  addressed 
them  most  touchingly,  and  with  much  sincerity, 
speaking  at  length  of  the  virtues  and  untiring 
devotion  of  the  good  old  man.  A  physician  then 
pronounced  a  eulogy.  The  people  turned  sor- 
rowfully and  slowly  away  from  the  grave  of  one 
so  dear  to  them,  whose  whole  life  was  an  en- 
deavor to  get  good  from  heaven,  and  do  good  to 
men.    Peace  to  thy  spirit,  sainted  Oberlin  ! 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


BY  MRS.  H.  A.  P.  NYE. 

NO.  1.— JESUS. 

I  have  a  question  to  ask  of  the  little  ones, 
whose  bright  eyes  are  glancing  over  the  pages 
of  this  new  Annual,  in  search  of  pictures,  or, 
perhaps,  of  some  pleasing  story.  I  own  a  fear, 
that  such  as  like  pretty  stories  only,  will  "  skip  " 
these  scraps  of  mine.  It  may  be  that  they  will 
consent  to  read  on,  when  I  promise  to  write 
nothing  but  what  is  true. 

You  may  have  heard  from  parents  or  teachers, 
at  some  time,  questions  like  these:  —  "Who 
was  the  wisest  man?  Who  was  the  meekest 
man  ?  The  question  I  would  ask,  is  this  :  — 
Who  was  the  perfect  man  ?    Can  you  tell  ? 

He  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea,  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago,  and  in  a  manger,  we  are  told. 
Many  good  and  great  men  have  been  born  in  poor 
huts,  and  lowly  homes.  You  have  read,  in 
your  father's  great  Bible,  or  have  heard  from 
your  mother's  lips,  of  the  star  which  guided  the 
wise  men  who  went  to  worship  the  young  child, 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


25 


and  to  offer  him  their  gifts ;  of  the  angels  who 
sang  of  "  peace  and  good  will,"  to  the  shepherds, 
as  they  watched  their  flocks  by  night. 

Jesus  was  the  perfect  man.  He  was  perfect 
in  love.  "  He  went  about  doing  good."  Though 
he  had  not  where  to  rest  his  head,  he  sought 
neither  wealth  nor  ease,  but  the  virtue  and  hap- 
piness of  those  around  him  ;  he  healed  the  sick, 
made  blind  men  to  see,  the  deaf  to  hear,  and  the 
dumb  to  speak.  Worn  and  weary,  sometimes, 
in  his  travels,  he  never  refused  aid  to  such  as 
desired  his  blessing ;  poor  men  and  sinful  were 
relieved  by  him.  This  kindness  extended  to  all, 
and  no  hatred  ever  changed  his  deep  and  univer- 
sal love. 

Jesus  was  perfect  in  virtue  ;  many  men  have 
been  virtuous,  yet  all,  to  some  extent,  have 
sinned,  save  Jesus.  He  was  tempted,  as  we  all 
are,  (and  what  child  knows  not  what  is  meant  by 
being  tempted  to  sin  ?)  but  he  never  did  a  wrong 
act,  nor  spake  an  evil  word.  He  injured  none, 
even  those  who  were  unkind  to  him.  And  when 
dying,  he  prayed  his  Father  to  forgive  those  who 
put  him  to  the  cruel  death  of  the  cross. 

Our  Saviour,  Jesus,  came  to  this  world,  to 
teach  us  to  be  perfect  as  he  is  perfect.  He 
came  also  to  tell  us  of  a  world  beyond  this,  where 
he  now  lives,  and  where,  when  we  are  pure  as 


23 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


he  is  pure,  we  shall  also  dwell.  Jesus  rose  from 
the  dead  to  assure  us  that  we,  that  our  friends, 
that  all  men,  shall  at  last  be  as  the  angels  are, — 
sinless,  spiritual,  and  forever  happy.  And  now, 
when  we  follow  the  bodies  of  our  loved  ones  to 
the  tomb,  we  do  not  think  them  dead,  but  hope  to 
meet  them  again,  to  part  no  more  forever. 


NO.  2.  —  THE  LITTLE  CONSOLER. 

"  Mother,  shall  we  not  wish  to  see  father 
again  ?  "  asked  a  little  boy,  as  he  looked  for  the 
last  time  on  the  father  whom  he  had  loved,  who 
lay  sleeping  in  death,  unmindful  of  those  who 
stood  beside  him  with  tearful  eyes. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  we  shall  wish  to  see  father, 
but  we  never  can  again,  while  we  live  in  this 
world." 

"Bat  will  not  father  rise  again  ?  My  Sabbath 
school  teacher  told  me  that  God  raised  up  Jesus 
from  the  dead.  Say,  mother,  will  he  not  raise 
father  too?" 

The  mother  was  deeply  moved  by  the  earnest 
faith  of  her  child,  and  her  own  heart  was  com- 
forted, as  she  felt  how  blessed  was  that  hope, 
which  could  enable  her  to  answer  the  anxious 
look  and  question  of  her  boy,  by  assuring  him 
of  her  firm  belief  that  God  would  raise  up  his 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


2? 


father,  as  he  had  raised  his  son  Jesus,  from  the 
dead. 

"  Father  will  not  rise  till  the  last  day,  will  he, 
mother  ? " 

To  this  question  the  mother  replied,  that  when 
the  breath  left  his  father's  body,  his  spirit  went 
to  God ;  that  his  father  was  then  in  heaven. 

"  Then,  mother,  if  he  is  in  heaven,  he  is  an 
angel,  is  he  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  George,  your  father  is  an  angel  now; 
when  we  die,  we  shall  be  as  the  angels,  children 
of  God,  being  children  of  the  resurrection." 

"  Are  not  the  angels  around  us,  mother,  and  do 
they  not  watch  over  us,  and  guard  us  when  we 
sleep  ?  It  may  be,  if  we  cannot  see  father,  that 
he  can  see  us,  and  that  he  will  be  near  us,  and 
near  our  beds,  to  love  us  and  care  for  us." 

These  were  the  words  of  a  little  boy  of  nine 
years,  as  he  stood  with  his  mother  beside  his 
father's  shrouded  form,  about  to  be  borne  to  the 
tomb.  I  never  think  of  him,  of  his  simple,  ear- 
nest trust,  but  with  a  softened  heart. 

You,  children,  may  have  lost,  or  may  yet 
lose,  your  father,  mother,  or  friend.  Remem- 
ber, then,  they  are  not  dead ;  they  are  as  the 
angels  in  heaven ;  neither  can  they  die  any  more. 
They  are  changed,  but  their  spirits  can  never 
die. 

3 


28 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


NO.  3.  — "  SUFFER  LITTLE  CHILDREN  TO  COME 
UNTO  ME." 

"  Mother,  mother,  where  is  the  baby  ? "  I  heard 
a  child  ask  yesterday  of  his  parent.  Again  and 
again  the  question  was  repeated,  but  he  could 
not  understand  where  the  baby  had  gone,  nor 
what  it  was  to  be  dead.  It  was  hard,  he  thought, 
that  his  little  sister  could  not  come  to  play  with 
him.  He  had  seen  her  lying  still  and  cold  in 
her  white  robe  ;  she  neither  spoke  nor  moved ; 
what  could  it  mean  ?  His  little  heart  could  not 
tell,  nor  why  they  should  put  his  sweet  sister  in 
the  ground.  And  still  he  asked,  "Mother, 
mother,  where  is  the  baby  ?" 

Do  my  little  friends  remember  that  when 
our  Saviour  was  upon  the  earth,  some  one  carried 
young  children  to  him,  hoping  they  might  be 
blessed  by  so  good  a  man  ?  His  disciples  bade 
them  go  away,  and  not  trouble  their  master  ;  but 
Jesus  said,  "  Suffer  litttle  children  to  come  unto 
me,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  and 
he  took  them  in  his  arms  and  blessed  them. 

Jesus  loves  young  children  now,  and  when  any 
die,  they  are  carried  to  his  arms,  there  to  be 
blessed  by  his  smiles  and  love.  Children  are  the 
lambs  of  his  flock,  and  one  of  your  hymns  tell 
you,  that  the  lambs  of  his  flock  are  his  tenderest 


SCRAPS  FOE.  CHILDREN. 


29 


care.  The  eastern  shepherd  leads  his  sheep  to 
the  green  pastures  in  the  summer  time,  and 
there  remains  to  guard  his  flocks  from  wolves, 
and  prevent  their  going  astray.  His  sheep  know 
his  voice  and  follow  wherever  he  leads.  If  the 
young  lambs  are  weary,  he  carries  them  in  his 
arms. 

Jesus  called  himself  the  "  good  shepherd." 
The  good  shepherd,  he  said,  layeth  down  his  life 
for  his  sheep.  Jesus  is  our  shepherd,  now ;  he 
still  careth  for  his  sheep ;  and  now,  in  heaven,  as 
when  he  was  upon  the  earth,  the  lambs  of  his 
flock  are  taken  in  his  arms ;  some,  when  sick 
and  weary,  are  borne  to  the  spirit  home,  and  rest 
ever  in  the  green  pastures,  and  by  the  still  waters 
of  that  world  of  endless  peace  and  love. 

For  those  children  who  have  followed  me  thus 
far,  I  have  a  few  more  words  fo  write.  I  have 
told  you  that  Jesus  was  perfect ;  that  his  life  was 
spent  in  doing  good,  in  healing  the  sick,  and 
preaching  the  gospel  to  such  as  would  hear.  To 
bless  others  was  the  happiness  of  his  life ;  for 
that  only  he  lived,  and  for  that  only  he  died. 

God  the  Father  is  also  continually  doing  good  ; 
the  Scriptures  tell  us  that  "he  is  good  to  all,  and 
that  his  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works." 
In  deep  silence,  at  midnight  as  at  noon-day,  he 


30 


SCRAPS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


confers  blessings  upon  the  children  of  men.  In 
the  goodness  of  God  consists  his  highest  glory. 
When  men  wish  to  be  like  Jesus,  and  to  be  like 
God,  they  strive  to  do  good,  to  be  kind,  to  relieve 
and  console  those  in  suffering  or  sorrow,  and  to 
improve  all  in  knowledge  and  virtue. 

And  what,  think  you,  can  you  do  to  become 
the  children  of  God?  Commence  by  being  obe- 
dient to  your  parents.  We  read  that  Jesus,  when 
a  child,  was  subject  to  his  parents.  Be  kind  and 
obliging  to  your  brothers,  sisters,  and  companions. 
Be  ever  gentle ;  speak,  no  unkind  nor  evil  words. 
Begin,  thus,  to  walk  in  the  path  which  Jesus 
trod.  Forget  not  to  pray  to  your  Father  in 
heaven  to  aid  you  in  becoming  good.  We  read 
that  Jesus  passed  whole  nights  in  prayer  to  God. 
If  Jesus,  then,  who  was  himself  so  good,  needed 
to  pray,  how  much  more  should  weak,  erring 
children  ask  the  protection  and  guidance  of  him 
who  is  ever  near  to  help  those  who  call  upon  his 
name  ! 

If,  then,  children,  you  wish  to  be  good,  and  to 
do  good,  try  to  be  followers  of  Jesus,  the  perfect 
man. 


THE  LITTLE  ADVENTURERS. 


BY  MRS.  E.  A.  BACON. 

Our  little  Infant  School  vestry  !  how  I  wish 
you  could  see  it,  my  dear  little  readers.  So  snug, 
so  comfortable  and  cozy  it  is,  cuddled  under  one 
corner  of  our  good  old  church,  with  the  morning 
sun  streaming  across  its  bright  carpet,  its  pictured 
walls  and  smiling  faces,  and  its  little  red  covered 
table,  adorned  with  a  vase  of  flowers,  the  morn- 
ing offering  of  happy  children. 

Well,  our  little  infant  school  vestry,  on  one 
bright  Sabbath  morning,  was  filled  with  goodly 
rows  of  boys  and  girls,  who  had  just  folded  their 
hands  and  quietly  arisen  to  repeat  their  morning 
prayer,  when  the  door  opened,  and  two  little 
strange  faces  peeped  in.  They  received  a  wel- 
come, and  were  led  to  the  seat.  They  were 
poorly  clad,  but  were  neat  and  clean,  and  I  felt 
sure  that  a  mother's  hand  had  done  its  best  for 
her  darlings.  Sunday  after  Sunday  they  came, 
and  their  quiet,  earnest  faces  drew  our  hearts 
very  near  to  them,  and  we  resolved  to  know 
more  of  them  ;  so,  after  the  lessons  were  recited 


32 


THE  LITTLE  ADVENTURERS. 


one  day,  we  drew  the  little  matronly  girl  into  a 
lively  chat. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  a  little  way  down  from  the  church,  in  one 
of  the  cross  streets,"  said  she,  pointing  in  the 
direction. 

"  Do  your  parents  attend  church  here  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am  !  they  are  too  poor  to  come." 

"  How  did  you  find  the.  way  ? " 

"  Why,  brother  and  I  wanted  to  go  to  your 
Sunday  school  dreadfully ;  so  mother  worked  hard 
and  got  us  ready,  and  she  told  us  to  come  down 
this  street,  and  we  should  find  the  school." 

"  Well,  do  you  love  to  come  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  we  never  want  to  stay  at  home, 
and  when  brother  is  n't  well  he  cries  to  come." 

"  Have  n't  you  little  neighbors  around  you  who 
don't  go  to  the  Sabbath  school  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  and  I  try  to  tease  them  to 
come,  for,  don't  you  think,  they  play  all  day 
Sunday." 

"  Oh,  that  is  very  bad ;  but  why  don't  they 
come  ? " 

"  Why,  they  say  their  clothes  are  so  bad." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "I  should  like  to  find  some 
of  your  little  neighbors,  for  we  have  a  circle  of 
kind  young  ladies  who  would  love  dearly  to  make 
clothes  for  them,  so  that  they  might  come  to 


THE  LITTLE  ADVENTURERS. 


35 


school.  But  may  I  come  and.  see  your  mother  ? 
and  then  she  may  tell  me,  perhaps,  where  I  can 
find  them." 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  do  !  "  and  then  she  described 
the  place  of  her  residence  as  well  as  she  could. 
Tbe  school  commenced  singing,  and  our  conver- 
sation was  interrupted. 

After  school,  I  noticed  these  children  lingering 
behind  the  others,  and  the  little  girl  wore  an 
anxious  expression.  I  soon  gave  her  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  me,  and  she  looked  up  with 
a  beseeching  gaze,  saying,  "  Don't  pray  come 
Monday  or  Tuesday  to  see  mother,  will  you  ?  " 

"Why  not?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  because  mother  washes  and  irons  on 
thof  e  days,  and  she  '11  feel  bad  because  she  will 
not  look  nice." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "  I  will  come 
Wednesday,  if  that  is  better." 

"Oh  yes,  Wednesday,"  she  said;  "that  is  a 
good  day;"  and  her  eyes  brightened  as  she 
walked  away  satisfied. 

Wednesday  came,  and  I  started  on  my  expe- 
dition, and  as  I  had  threaded  so  many  of  our 
lanes  and  alleys,  I  felt  sure  I  could  find  our  little 
strangers;  but  "  deary  me,"  as  the  children  say, 
up  this  street  and  down  that  went  I,  through, 
across,  and  every  way  in  the   direction  she 


34 


THE  LITTLE  ADVENTURERS. 


pointed  out,  knocked  at  door  after  door,  made 
the  dogs  growl,  the  children  peep,  and  spoiled 
many  an  afternoon  nap,  but  none  the  wiser  was 
L  Nobody  knew  "  Mrs.  Martin."  At  last  I 
gave  up  in  despair,  and  returned  home. 

The  next  Sabbath  the  children  were  in  their 
places  as  usual,  and  I  determined  to  take  more 
accurate  directions  to  their  home,  but,  before 
I  mentioned  it,  the  little  girl  came  to  me  with  a 
sad  face,  and  holding  out  her  school  books,  said, 
"  I  must  give  these  up,  ma'am,  for  we  can't 
come  any  more." 

"  Why  not  ? "  I  asked. 

"  We  're  going  to  move  into  the  country  next 
week." 

To  be  sure  we  felt  very  sad  to  part  with  them, 
but  we  made  them  each  a  present  of  a  little  book, 
and  parted  good  friends. 

Now,  my  little  friends,  who  are  reading  my 
story,  you  are  no  more  disappointed  than  myself, 
that  I  did  not  find  their  home,  and  perhaps  you 
have  pictured  it  like  myself,  —  a  clean,  but  spare 
apartment,  with  a  busy  mother,  a  rosy  baby,  a 
cat,  a  dog,  and  a  few  flowers.  It  might  have 
been  a  garret,  however.  But  then  a  garret  is 
sometimes  pleasant,  when  cheerful  hearts  are 
there,  and  I  know  these  children  have  a  cheer- 
ful mother.    Besides,  perhaps  you  will  not  be- 


THE  LITTLE  ADVENTURERS. 


35 


lieve  me,  but  it  is  true,  —  one  of  the  most  tidy 
and  cheerful  homes  of  the  poor  that  I  ever  vis- 
ited, was  up  in  a  garret,  and  I  have  thought  a 
hundred  times,  how  neatly  every  household 
utensil  was  arranged  around  that  well  scoured 
room. 

But  you  say  it  is  too  bad  that  I  don't  know 
more  of  that  little  girl  and  boy  —  those  little 
martin-birds  that  flew  into  our  box  so  gayly  one 
morning.  Why,  I  think  I  know  a  good  deal 
about  them.  I  know  they  wish  to  learn  good 
and  holy  things.  I  know  they  will  not  play  on 
the  Sabbath.  I  know  they  will  try  to  persuade 
others  to  be  good.  I  know  they  are  thoughtfii? 
of  their  parents.  I  know  they  are  honest.  Asia 
is  not  all  that  a  good  deal?  You  think  it  is, 
and  so  do  I,  and  I  wish  I  knew  as  much  of  every 
one  of  you. 


THE  CARELESS  DART. 


5  Come  in,  my  daughter,  close  the  door, 

Shut  out  the  driving  storm, 
Dry  your  wet  garments  — then  drink  tea,  — 
I 've  kept  it  nice  and  warm. 

We  '11  have  a  pleasant,  time  to-night, 

I 've  had  good  luck  to-day , 
1  've  washed  for  Mrs.  Francis  Smith, 

And  see,  besides  my  pay  — 

She 's  given  me  all  this  bread  and  meal. 

And  sent  this  cake  to  you  ; 
And  at  the  store  I  bought  this  tea ; 

A  pound  of  candles,  too. 

When  tea  is  over,  sit  by  me. 

Upon  your  little  stool, 
And  I  will  read  the  pretty  book 

You  brought  from  Sabbath  school. 

With  three  good  places  now  to  wash, 

I 've  many  things  in  view  ; 
And  first  —  when  rent  is  paid  —  I  '11  buy 

That  spelling-book  for  you. 

Then  you  will  soon  know  how  to  read, 
And  when  I  cannot  see, 


THE   CARELESS  DART. 


37 


From  age  and  weariness,  my  child 
Shall  read  and  work  for  me." 

Thus  spake  a  hopeful  mother's  heart, 

Tc  little  Mary  Blane  ; 
But  e'en  the  promised  spelling-book 

No  cheerful  smile  could  gain. 

The  cake  of  Mrs.  Smith,  untouched, 

Upon  the  table  laid  ; 
In  vain,  with  many  a  winsome  prank, 

Her  kitten  frisked  and  played. 

Now  Mary  was  a  gladsome  child, 

No  bird  more  blithe  and  gay, 
No  gentler  being  spared  the  worm 

That  in  the  pathway  lay. 

But  grief  s  sharp  arrow,  barbed  with  shame, 

Sped  by  a  careless  hand, 
Was  rankling  in  that  little  heart, 

But  late  so  free  and  bland. 

Her  mother  marked  the  shade  that  dimmed 

Those  eyes  so  blue  and  mild, 
Then  took  her  to  her  heart  and  said,— 

"  What  ails  my  precious  child?" 

She  whispered,  — "  Nothing,  but  "  — then  swift 

The  gathering  tear-drops  rolled  ; 
Her  voice  was  choked  by  stifling  sobs, 

That  would  not  be  controlled, 


THE   CARELESS  DART. 

Her  mother  paused,  then  asked,  with  grief 

That  mothers  only  know, 
"  Will  Mary  to  her  mother  tell 

The  cause  of  all  this  woe?" 

She  sobbed,  "  Whate'er  you  can  afford, 

I  know  you  don't  refuse  ; 
But,  mother,  if  I  could  but  have 

A  pair  of  nice  new  shoes  ! 

To-day  I  entered  the  new  school, 

My  feet  were  wet  and  cold, 
And  when  I  put  them  to  the  fire, — 

You  know  my  shoes  are  old,  — 

Rich  Sarah  Blanchard  smiled  and  said, 

'  See  there  !'  to  Ellen  Wood, 
Who  said  — '  How  awkward  she  does  look, 

Dressed  in  her  mother's  hood  ! 

Their  home  is  in  that  mean  old  house,  — 

They  're  very  poor  and  low  ; 
Her  father  here  is  never  seen ;' — 

Deat  mother,  is  it  so  1 

Oh,  mother,  if  I  could  but  die !  — 

You  said  the  poor  and  mean, 
Who  loved  the  Lord,  in  heaven  should  have 

New  garments,  white  and  clean. 

I  asked,  if  I  a  father  had, 

When  I  his  face  should  see ; 
You  said,  in  heaven  —  perhaps  —  and  cried, 

And  turned  your  face  from  me. 


THE  CARELESS  DART. 


39 


If  I  should  meet  that  father  there, 

Now  say,  do  you  suppose 
He 'd  kiss  me,  like  the  kind  papa 

Of  little  Lucy  Rose  ? 

And  buy  me  clothing  nice  and  warm, 

That  none  might  laugh  at  me, 
And  say  that  I  was  mean  and  low,  — 

Mother,  where  can  he  be?" 

A  groan  burst  from  that  mother's  heart, 

She  prayed  in  accents  wild, 
"  On  me,  great  God  !  the  vial  pour, 

But  spare  my  sinless  child  ! 

For  I  have  borne,  and  still  can  bear, 

With  want,  neglect,  and  woe  ; 
But  oh,  let  not  my  stainless  flower 

Their  blighting  influence  know  ! 

No  !  rather  take  her  to  thyself, 

Thou  just  and  holy  One  ! 
And  I  will  school  this  breaking  heart 

To  say,  '  Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

Her  prayer  was  heard,  —  a  few  short  months, 

And  little  Mary  laid 
Close  by  her  weary  mother's  side. 

Beneath  the  willow's  shade. 

And  when,  around  those  lonely  graves, 

The  village  children  stood, 
They  mourned  the  careless  mirth  that  wrung 

A  heart  so  kind  and  good. 
4 


40 


THE  CARELESS  DART. 


And  promised  never  more  in  sport 

The  humble  to  deride, 
Or  judge,  without  compassion,  those 

For  whom  the  Saviour  died. 

h.  a.  d. 


THE  RED  AND  WHITE  ROSE: 

A  FABLE. 

BY  REV.  A.  H1CJIBORN. 

A  red  and  white  rose,  whose  parent  bushes 
had  for  years  grown  peacefully  side  by  side,  and 
put  forth  their  fragrant  flowers*  in  harmony,  at 
length  had  a  dispute  as  to  the  merits  of  each 
other  to  be  called  beautiful. 

"  How  presumptuous  you  are,  Mr.  Red  Rose," 
said  the  white,  "  to  lay  any  claims  to  beauty ! 
Why,  you  are  so  gaudy  I  am  ashamed  of  you  ; 
you  hold  up  your  red  face  as  bold  as  though  you 
were  the  king  of  flowers ;  there  is  no  modesty 
in  you,  or  you  would  hide  a  face  that  looks  as 
though  ready  to  burst  with  wine.  Your  vanity 
is  intolerable,  and,  for  my  part,  I  cannot  conceive 
why  you  are  allowed  to  grow,  unless  it  be  to 
show,  by  contrast,  how  much  more  beautiful  are 
my  own  delicate  leaves." 

"  Stop  there,  Madame  White  Rose,"  said  the 
red;  "  it  is  but  fair  that  I  should  have  a  word  to 
say  in  a  matter  involving  my  reputation.  Do 
you  not  know  that  the  palm  of  beauty  has  al- 


42 


THE  RED  AND  WHITE  ROSE. 


ways  been  given  to  me  ?  Doth  not  the  warrior 
gather  me  to  adorn  his  crest,  while  you  think 
yourself  lucky  if  you  can  rest  in  the  hair,  or  on 
the  bosom  of  some  love-sick  maiden  ?  Were  it 
not  so  serious  a  matter,  I  would  laugh  at  your 
foolishness ;  as  it  is,  the  crimson  on  my  cheek 
is  deepened  with  blushes  for  your  impudence." 

There  was  much  dispute  of  this  kind  passed 
between  them,  which  we  will  not  here  relate ; 
but  their  disputing  did  not  bring  them  one  whit 
nearer  to  agreement ;  they  even  called  each  other 
by  harder  names,  and  were  on  the  point  of  set- 
tling the  dispute  by  a  use  of  their  thorns,  when 
a  wise  and  modest  lily,  who  was  standing  by 
and  listening  to  the  controversy,  thus  addressed 
them  : 

"  I  am  pained  that  two  friends  whom  I  so  much 
esteem,  and  who,  on  other  matters,  manifest  so 
much  sense,  should  be  so  foolish  as  to  quarrel 
about  so  insignificant  a  thing  as  their  good 
looks." 

Upon  this,  the  disputing  roses  turned  to  the 
lily,  and  begged  that  he  would  be  an  umpire  to 
decide  upon  their  respective  claims. 

"  Cheerfully,"  replied  the  lily,  "  for,  blessed 
are  they  who  restore  peace  between  those  who 
quarrel.  Know,  then,  that  you  are  both  beauti- 
ful, when  you  are  not  marred  by  envy  or  pride. 


THE  RED  AND  WHITE  ROSE. 


43 


The  great  Creator  has  given  to  each  the  color 
that  pleased  him  best,  and  you  are  both  needed, 
to  perfect  the  plan  of  his  wondrous  creation. 
You  both  derive  your  colors  from  the  same  source  ; 
and  it  is  indeed  vain  for  one  to  boast  over  the 
other.  Learn,  then,  to  be  wise  ;  fulfil  your  mis- 
sion by  spreading  the  perfume  and  displaying  the 
colors  which  He  who  made  everything  beautiful 
has  given  you ;  and  the  deep  crimson  of  one 
shall  be  softened  by  the  light  hue  of  the  other, 
while  the  pale  cheek  shall  receive  a  delicate 
blush,  reflected  upon  it  by  the  companion  it  now 
despises ;  and  thus  shall  you  both  be  more  beau- 
tiful than  now." 

Moral. — Never  despise  the  excellences,  or 
accomplishments  of  another,  because  they  differ 
from  your  own  ;  remember  they  are  all  needful 
to  fill  up  the  divine  picture  of  life. 


A  SHORT  STORY  FOR  LITTLE 
READERS. 


BY  MRS.   SARAH  W.  DESMAZES. 

"  Come,  Helen  and  Adine,  we  have  had  a  fine 
ramble  this  morning.  Your  glowing-  cheeks 
almost,  if  not  quite,  rival  the  roses  that  we  have 
just  gathered  from  the  garden.  Sit  you.  both 
down  beside  me  on  this  grassy  bank,  under  the 
shade  of  this  beautiful  cherry-tree,  and  while  we 
watch  the  little  birds  so  busy  building  their 
nests,  we  will  have  a  pleasant  chat." 

"  And  will  you  tell  us  a  story  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  little  chatter-boxes,  you  shall  have 
a  story." 

"  A  true  story,  cousin  Sarah  ;  let  it  be  a  true 
story." 

"  Certainly,  it  shall  be  a  true  story,  and  I  wish 
you  to  be  very  attentive,  so  that  you  may  remem- 
ber it." 

"  Oh  yes,  we  will." 

"  Well,  then  ;  many  years  ago,  and  in  a  country 
far  distant  from  this,  there  lived  a  king,  who  was 
neither  a  just  nor  a  good  king  ;  for  he  treated  a 


A  SHORT  STORY  FOR  LITTLE  READERS.  45 


part  of  his  subjects  very  cruelly.  He  placed 
task-masters  over  them,  who  compelled  them  to 
do  very  laborious  work,  and  often  exacted  of 
them  more  than  they  had  strength  to  perform. 
In  other  ways  he  afflicted  them  grievously,  so 
that  their  lives  became  aweary  burden. 

"  It  is  very  unwise,  as  well  as  unkind,  for  a  king 
to  treat  his  subjects  in  this  manner,  because  he 
soon  loses  their  respect  and  good-will,  and  they 
are,  in  consequence,  much  harder  to  govern  than 
if  they  were  treated  kindly.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing their  toils  and  privations,  these  people  in- 
creased very  rapidly,  and  the  king  greatly  feared 
that  they  might  rebel  against  him,  and,  uniting 
with  some  other  nation,  take  away  his  kingdom 
from  him  ;  but  instead  of  pursuing  a  milder  course 
towards  them,  or  even  attempting  to  gain  in 
the  least  degree  their  love,  he  grew  more  cruel 
and  unjust.  He  made  a  law  that  all  the  male 
children  born  among  them  should  be  thrown  into 
the  river  and  drowned.  By  this  barbarous  act 
he  determined  to  reduce  their  numbers  so  as  to 
prevent  them  from  ever  making  any  successful 
effort  to  regain  their  liberty. 

"  Now  there  lived  in  that  country  a  woman,  who 
had  a  little  baby  boy,  whom  she  loved  very  ten- 
derly. She  concealed  him  three  months  in  her 
house,  and  when  she  found  that  she  could  not 


46       A  SHORT  STORY  FOR  LITTLE  READERS. 


safely  keep  him  any  longer,  she  devised  a  plan 
by  which  she  hoped  to  preserve  him  from  the 
cruelty  of  the  king.  She  gathered  some  reeds 
from  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  wove  a  little 
ark  or  basket,  which  she  covered  with  pitch,  to 
keep  the  water  from  getting  into  it.  This  made 
a  little  boat.  She  then  dressed  her  little  boy 
very  neatly,  kissed  his  rosy  lips,  and  pressing  him 
to  her  bosom,  laid  him  in  the  ark  which  she  had 
prepared,  and  placed  it  in  the  river  near  which 
she  dwelt. 

"  Oh,  how  sadly  she  must  have  felt  when  she 
left  him  there,  and  how  fervently  she  must  have 
prayed  that  God  would  preserve  him  from 
danger ! 

"  Now  it  happened  about  this  time  that  the 
daughter  of  the  king,  with  her  maidens,  came 
down  to  the  river  to  bathe  ;  and  when  she  saw 
the  little  ark  or  boat,  she  sent  one  of  her  maids 
to  bring  it  to  her. 

"  How  much  surprised  she  must  have  been  when 
she  found  that  it  contained  an  infant !  We  may 
suppose  that  the  princess,  when  she  looked  at 
the  little  child,  whose  eyes  were  filling  with  tears, 
as  he  saw  strange  faces  around  him,  felt  her 
heart  yearn  towards  him,  for  with  love  and  pity 
she  immediately  exclaimed,  '  This  is  one  of 


A  SHORT  STORY  FOR  LITTLE  READERS.  47 


the  Hebrews'  children  ;  I  will  adopt  him  for  my 
own  !' 

"  The  little  child's  sister,  who  had  lingered  near 
to  see  what  would  become  of  him,  and  who  had 
witnessed  this  proceeding,  now  ventured  to  come 
forward  and  ask  if  she  might  bring  a  nurse  for 
the  child  from  the  Hebrew  women.  The  prin- 
cess replied  that  she  might.  So  she  went  and 
brought  the  little  child's  own  mother,  and  the 
princess  said  to  her,  '  Take  him  home  and 
nurse  him,  and  I  will  pay  thee.'  With  what  joy 
she  must  have  received  her  babe  again ;  and  how 
grateful  she  must  have  felt  to  her  heavenly 
Father,  that  his  life  was  not  only  preserved,  but 
that  she  was  to  be  permitted  to  bestow  upon  him 
a  mother's  love  and  protection !  So  the  child 
remained  with  his  mother  as  long  as  the  princess 
desired ;  then  she  took  him  to  her  own  home,  and 
he  became  her  son,  and  she  called  his  name 
Moses." 

"  0,  cousin  Sarah,  it  was  'Moses  in  the  bul- 
rushes !  '  There  is  a  picture  of  him  in  my  little 
Bible." 

"  Yes,  it  was ;  and  when  he  became  a  man  he 
assisted  his  poor,  oppressed  countrymen,  and 
delivered  them  out  of  the  hands  of  the  cruel 
king  Pharaoh.  Aftei wards  God  made  him  a 
ruler  over  his  people,  and  gave  him  the  ten  com- 


48      A  SHORT  STORY  FOR  LITTLE  READERS. 

mandments  and  many  other  laws  to  teach  to  the 
people." 

"Well,  what  became  of  this  wicked  king? 
Did  he  receive  any  punishment !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  wish  you  to  remember  that  the 
wicked  are  always  punished  sooner  or  later  for 
their  crimes. 

"  The  Israelites  asked  permission  to  depart  from 
his  country,  bat  Pharaoh  refused  until  God  had 
sent  upon  him  very  severe  afflictions,  when  he 
reluctantly  consented ;  but  after  they  had  de- 
parted he  felt  sorry  that  he  had  let  them  go,  and 
followed  them  with  an  army  of,  men,  to  capture 
them  and  take  them  back  again.  He  overtook 
them  upon  the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea;  and  here 
it  was  that  God,  in  a  very  remarkable  manner, 
interposed  in  behalf  of  the  Israelites.  He  com- 
manded Moses  to  stretch  forth  his  hands,  and  he 
did  so,  and  the  waters  of  the  sea  were  divided, 
so  that  Moses  and  his  countrymen  passed 
through  on  dry  land  ;  but  Pharaoh  and  his  host 
following,  the  waters  flowed  back  upon  them,  and 
they  were  all  drowned. 

"  The  history  of  these  events,  and  the  journey- 
ings  of  the  Israelites  through  the  wilderness,  is 
very  interesting,  and  when  you  are  a  little  older 
you  can  read  it  from  the  Bible." 


BRAZEN  SERPENT. 


THE  BRAZEN  SERPENT. 


BY  MISS  E.  DOTEN. 

"And  as  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even 
so  must  the  Son  of  man  be  lifted  up,  that  whosoever  believ- 
eth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 

John  iii.  14,  15. 

Still  over  wandering  Israel's  way 

The  mystic  pillar  brightly  glowed, 
And  still  upon  the  holy  ark 

The  presence  of  the  Lord  abode ; 
And  still,  like  drops  of  dew,  there  fell 

The  heavenly  manna,  pure  and  sweet; 
And  still  the  golden  cherubim 

"Watched  o'er  the  blessed  mercy-seat, 

But  faithless  hearts  and  murmuring  lips 

Saw  not  the  blessings  round  them  shed ; 
They  mourned  for  Egypt's  pleasant  land, 

And  cast  aside  the  heavenly  bread  ; 
They  asked  of  him  who  led  them  forth, 

A  band  of  trembling,  toil-worn  slaves, 
"  Why  hast  thou  brought  us  here  to  die, 

Far  from  our  homes  and  fathers'  graves?" 

Then,  like  the  messengers  of  wrath, 
The  hissing  serpents  round  them  came  ; 

They  gathered  o'er  the  wanderer's  path, 
In  shining  folds,  with  eyes  of  flame 


THE  BRAZEN  SERPENT. 


The  mothers  clasped  their  little  ones 
And  wildly  shrieked  for  aid,  in  vain ; 

And  aged  men,  and  blooming  maids, 
Sank  down  to  perish  in  their  pain. 

Then  came  their  faithful  leader  forth, 

And  raised  the  brazen  serpent  high, 
And  whosoever  looked  thereon, 

In  trusting  faith,  he  might  not  die. 
As  if  the  pitying  heavens  dropped  down 

Its  blessed  dews,  like  healing  balm, 
A  rest  unto  that  host  was  given,  — 

A  rest  from  fear,  a  peaceful  calm. 

Oh,  prophet-like  that  serpent  seemed, 

An  emblem  of  our  holy  faith, — 
A  type  of  that  which  hath  redeemed 

Our  souls  from  darkness  and  from  death 
Dear  Saviour !  Blessed  Lamb  of  God  ! 

Since  thou  for  us  wast  raised  on  high, 
We  turn  our  trusting  eye  to  thee, 

That  through  thy  love  we  may  not  die. 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 


A  COLLOQUY. 

BY  REV.  L.  J.  FLETCHER. 

(Mother  and  eldest  daughter  upon  the  stage.) 

Mother.  Harriet,  I  deem  the  scenes  of  yester- 
day quite  wonderful.  I  know  not  what  to  think 
of  them,  unless  I  say  that  Jesus  is  indeed  the 
Christ  which  the  prophets  have  promised.  He 
was  present  at  the  wedding  of  Zimron  and  Re- 
becca, and  when  there  was  no  more  wine,  they 
brought  water  in  vessels  and  set  it  before  him, 
and  immediately  they  drew  out  and  bare  to  the 
guests,  and  behold,  it  was  better  wine  than  before 
we  had  tasted ! 

Harriet.  It  was  indeed  wonderful.  But, 
mother,  did  you  taste  yourself,  and  know  that  it 
was  wine  ? 

Mother.  Yes,  child,  we  all  drank  and  knew 
there  was  no  deception. 

Harriet.  And  are  you  sure  that  Jesus  made 
it  from  the  water  that  was  brought  to  him  ? 

Mother.  Yes,  for  many  of  the  guests  stood 
by,  and  as  Jesus  came  and  looked  upon  the 
5 


54 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 


water,  it  changed  to  a  beautiful  claret  hue,  and 
what  we  drank  was  drawn  from  the  same 
vessels. 

Harriet.  Truly,  it  is  very  wonderful.  It 
must  be  that  he  is  the  promised  Messiah.  Did 
he  do  any  other  wonderful  work  ? 

Mother.  None  at  the  wedding;  but  I  was 
told  that  he  had  healed  the  sick  and  cast  out 
devils. 

Harriet.  Where  is  he  now,  do  you  suppose  ? 
I  would  go  far  to  look  upon  so  wonderful  a  per- 
sonage.  Will  he  not  pass  this  way,  as  he  goes 
up  to  Jerusalem  on  the  great  feast-day  ? 

Mother.  He  may,  or  he  may  not ;  for  I  am 
told  that  the  Chief  Priests  and  Elders  at  Jerusa- 
lem despise  him,  and  have  sought  to  slay  him. 

Harriet.    Is  he  not  a  good  man,  then  ? 

Mother.  Yes,  there  is  no  guile  found  upon 
his  lips  or  evil  in  his  life.  He  goes  about  doing 
good ;  and  because  he  blesses  all  classes  of  peo- 
ple with  his  instructions  and  wonderful  works, 
our  rulers  despise  him,  and  call  him  the  poor 
Nazarene. 

Harriet.  The  more  you  speak  of  him  the 
more  I  wish  to  see  him.  How  strange  all  this 
seems  to  me  !  I  am  confident  I  should  believe 
on  him  as  the  Christ  if  I  could  witness  his  mira- 
cles, as  he  is  said  to  perform  them.    But  here 


THF-  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST.  55 

come  William  and  Martha.  "Why  do  they  make 
such  haste  ?    They  must  have  news  to  tell. 

(Enter  William  and  Martha,  in  great  haste.) 

Mother.  Children,  why  do  you  come  in  such 
haste  ?    Have  you  news  to  tell  me  ? 

William  and  Martha.  Oh  mother !  mother  ! 
Such  a  man  as  we  have  seen  to-day  !  I  am 
sure  there  is  not  another  like  him  in  all  the 
world. 

Mother.  ( Turns  to  Harriet.)  Can  it  be  they 
have  seen  Jesus  ? 

Martha.  Jesus  !  Yes,  that  is  his  name.  I 
heard  the  people  call  him  Jesus. 

Harriet.  Do  tell  me  what  he  did  !  Where 
did  you  see  him,  children  ?    Where  is  he  now  ? 

William.  We  saw  him  iti  the  highway  which 
leads  towards  Jerusalem.  He  came  from  Jericho, 
and  a  great  multitude  came  with  him  ;  and  what 
do  you  think  we  saw  him  do  ? 

Mother.  I  know  not,  children.  He  is  a  great 
and  wonderful  man,  and  he  may  have  done  a 
very  wonderful  work. 

Harriet.  Do  tell  us  —  I  am  so  anxious  to 
hear  more  of  him. 

Martha.  You  know  old  Bartimeus  and  Si- 
mon, the  blind  beggars  ? 

Mother.    Yes,  they  were  born  blind. 


56 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 


Martha.  Well,  they  can  both  of  them  see 
now,  just  as  well  as  you  can. 

William.  Yes,  mother,  Jesus  cured  them  in 
a  minute,  by  just  saying,  Be  of  good  cheer,  and 
touching  their  eyes  with  his  finger. 

Martha.  Yes;  it  was  just  so,  mother,  for  I 
saw  it  myself,  —  and  such  a  shouting  and  rejoic- 
ing as  there  was  you  never  heard 

Mother.  Is  it  possible,  children,  that  what 
you  say  is  true  ?  Is  it  possible  that  old  Barti- 
meus  and  Simon  are  cured  of  their  blindness  ? 

William.  I  tell  you,  dear  mother,  we  saw  it 
done,  not  one  hour  ago.  We  were  leading  the 
beggars  up  to  the  synagogue,  when  we  saw  Jesus 
and  the  multitude  coming;  so  we  stopped  by  the 
way-side  while  they  passed  by ;  and  when  the 
beggars  cried  for  help  to  the  people,  Jesus  stopped 
and  opened  their  eyes  — 

Harriet.  What  did  the  people  say  when  they 
saw  it  done  ? 

Martha.  Some  cried,  Hosanna  !  Some  said 
he  must  be  a  great  prophet ;  and  I  heard  one  say 
that  he  must  be  the  son  of  God. 

William.  Yes,  I  heard  a  great  many  say  so  ; 
and  I  think  he  must  be ;  just  think  of  it.  He 
cured  two  men  of  their  blindness,  who  never 
saw  before  in  all  their  lives  — - 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 


57 


Harriet.    Where  is  he  now?    Why  do  you 
not  tell,  that  I  may  go  and  see  him  also  ? 

Martha.    He  is  now  on  his  way  to  Jeru-  ' 
salem,  and  Bartimeus  and  Simon  have  followed 
him. 

Harriet.  Oh,  mother,  I  know  that  he  must 
be  the  Christ  whom  the  prophets  have  promised, 
What  would  I  have  given  to  have  seen  him ! 

Mother.  Go,  children,  retire  to  your  rest,  and 
think  of  the  wonder  you  have  seen.  To-morrow 
we  will  talk  more  of  it.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
but  Jesus  is  the  greatest  personage  that  ever 
lived.  We  shall  doubtless  hear  more  of  him  soon. 

Martha.  I  think  he  must  be  a  very  good 
man,  as  well  as  a  great  man,  for  he  placed  his 
hands  upon  our  heads,  and  blessed  us,  and  said 
that  all  children  who  are  kind  to  the  poor,  and 
blind,  and  unfortunate,  are  beloved  by  God  — 

William.  Yes,  mother,  Jesus  blessed  us,  and 
said,  "  Of  such  are  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
But  here  come  James  and  Mary.  They  must 
have  met  Jesus,  as  they  have  just  returned  from 
Damascus  with  uncle  Zebedee  — 

(Enter  James  and  Mary.) 

Mother.  My  dear  children,  I  am  happy  to 
welcome  you  home  again.  Do  you  bring  us  any 
news  ? 

5* 


58  THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 

James.  News !  news !  Yes,  I  suppose  it  is 
news,  for  we  have  to  tell  you  the  most  wonderful 
things  you  ever  heard  in  all  your  life  ! 

Mary.  Yes,  mother,  the  most  wonderful,  cer- 
tain, that  ever  were  in  the  world  — 

Mother.  What  have  you  to  tell  so  very 
strange  ?  I  am  sure  it  cannot  be  more  so  than 
what  William  and  Martha  have  just  related. 

James.  Oh  yes,  I  am  sure  it  is,  for  we  have 
seen  a  man  raised  from  the  dead  — 

Mary.  Yes,  dear  mother,  a  man  the  people 
were  carrying  to  his  grave  ! 

Mother.  You  surprise  me,  children,  more  and 
more.  But  how  was  this  marvellous  work  per- 
formed, and  who  performed  it  ? 

Mary.  The  people  called  him  Jesus  !  He 
was  a  very  beautiful  man,  and  when  he  saw  the 
mourners  weeping,  he  went  up  to  the  bier,  and 
took  the  dead  man  by  the  hand,  and  he  rose  right 
up,  and  spoke  to  his  mother,  and  walked  with 
her  to  his  home  — 

James.  It  was  just  so,  mother ;  for  we  both 
stood  where  we  saw  it  done,  and  heard  the  peo- 
ple shout  when  the  dead  man  lived. 

Harriet.  We  can  doubt  no  more,  I  think,  but 
Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God.  No  other  being  could 
do  such  works.  Oh,  mother,  how  I  wish  he 
could  see  our  little  Samuel !   I  have  no  doubts 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST.  59 

but  if  he  could  see  him  he  would  cure  him  of  his 
leprosy,  by  just  looking  at  him. 

Martha.  Yes,  ma,  I  know  he  would ;  for  I 
heard  the  people  that  were  with  him  say  that  a 
woman  was  healed  by  just  touching  the  hem  of 
Jesus'  garment. 

Harriet.  Oh,  do  let  us  go  to  Jerusalem,  and 
carry  Samuel,  and  bowing  down  and  worship- 
ping Jesus,  ask  him  to  bestow  his  healrng 
power  upon  the  child.  Let  us  lose  no  time, 
but  go  to-morrow,  and  see  and  know  for  our- 
selves. For  one,  I  can  never  rest  satisfied  until 
I  have  seen  that  great,  and,  as  I  believe,  holy 
being. 

Mother.  Well,  we  will  go.  0  how  happy 
we  all  should  be,  if  Samuel  could  only  be 
cured  of  that  dreadful  disease  !  I  feel  already 
that  much  has  been  done  for  my  family  in  the 
blessing  pronounced  upon  William  and  Mar- 
tha. I  can  but  think  it  was  a  blessing  from 
Heaven. 

{Enter  little  Samuel,  led  by  a  neighbor's 
daughter.) 

Jane,  whose  child  bring  you  hither  ?  Indeed, 
he  is  a  lovely  boy !  He  is  as  fair  as  an  infant. 
Is  he  your  brother's  child  ? 

Jane.    Have  you  not  seen  this  boy  before  ? 


60  THE   MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 

Mother.  The  form  of  his  features  seems 
familiar,  but  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  saiv  him 
before  — 

Samuel.  Why,  mother !  I  thought  you  would 
never  forget  your  little  Samuel ! 

Mother.  My  Samuel !  my  Samuel !  Oh,  it 
is  his  voice,  but  it  cannot  be  him.  No,  it  can- 
not  be  my  Samuel  I 

Samuel.  Yes,  dear  mother,  it  is  me  !  And 
I  have  seen  Jesus,  and  he  has  cured  me  and  blest 
me.  Oh,  is  he  not  a  good  man,  and  ought  we 
not  to  love  him  ? 

Mother.  Samuel,  my  angel  child,  my  blest 
of  Jesus,  come  to  my  arms !  (Mother  embraces 
him  and  kisses  him.) 

Harriet.  Mother !  dearest  mother !  Is  not 
this  enough  ? 

Mother.  Yes,  Harriet,  it  is  enough.  Jesus, 
blessed  Jesus  !  "  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God,  thou 
art  the  King  of  Israel ! " 

Harriet.  "  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  my  un- 
belief." 

Mother.  Children,  all  the  blessings  of  this 
day,  as  well  as  of  all  other  days,  come  to  us  from 
God.  No  being  could  do  the  works  which  Jesus 
has  done  except  God  be  with  him.  Kneel,  there- 
fore, with  me,  before  the  Author  of  all  theso 
mercies,  and  let  us  in  silence  send  up  to  him  our 
thanksgiving  and  our  praises. 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST. 


61 


[All  kneel,  and  remain  in  silent  prayer  for  a 
moment,  after  ivhich  the  mother  says  Amen ! 
The  children  then  say  Amen,  and  all  arise.) 

Children,  you  have  some  of  you  received  this 
day  the  blessing  of  the  Son  of  God.  Perhaps  you 
need  no  more ;  still  you  shall  have  a  mother's 
blessing  as  ever,  and  her  prayer  that  this  day's 
scenes  may  long  be  remembered.  Come,  Sam- 
uel, my  blessed  child,  let  us  go.  Children  ;  'tis 
time  to  retire,  so  I  will  bid  you  good-night. 

All.  Good-night,  mother ;  we  all  shall  dream 
of  Jesus. 


HOW  DO  YOU  KNOW  HE  'S  HONEST  ? 


BY  REV.  HENRY  BACON. 

A  little  boy  was  observed  by  his  father  to 
have  a  new  toy,  and  the  father  asked  him  where 
he  got  it  ?  The  boy  mentioned  the  name  of  one 
of  his  schoolmates,  and  said  he  gave  it  to  him. 
This  excited  the  father's  surprise,  to  think  that 
a  plaything  of  that  character  should  be  bought 
by  a  lad,  and  then  immediately  given  away,  and 
he  expressed  his  fear  that  the  giver  might  not 
have  come  honestly  by  the  money  he  spent.  The 
circumstance  was  improved  to  impress  on  the 
receiver  of  the  gift,  that  if  he  should  know  or 
think  that  another  came  dishonestly  in  possession 
of  anything,  he  ought  not  to  receive  it  as  a  gift, 
on  any  account. 

"  But,"  said  the  little  boy  who  held  the  toy, 
"  I  know  he 's  honest." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  think  so,"  replied  the 
father,  "and  am  ready  to  hear  any  reasons  why  I 
should  believe  so.  How  do  you  know  he 's  hon- 
est ? " 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  the  young 


HOW  DO  YOU  KNOW  HE  's  HONEST  ? 


63 


philosopher,  as  though  he  were  entering  into  a 
grave  debate  in  the  old-fashioned  style  of 
preaching.  "  In  the  first  place,  he  never  tells  a 
lie;  and  that  shows  he's  honest,  don't  it  ?" 

The  father  readily  allowed  the  infeience,  and 
the  boy  declared  that  all  his  schoolmates  might 
be  asked  if  Charley  Bliss  ever  told  a  lie,  and 
"they'd  all  say  no,  right  off." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  the  young  lawyer 
making  out  his  case,  "  he  never  steals  anything 
—  not  the  least  thing;  and  that  shows  he's  hon- 
est, don't  it  ?  " 

"  I 've  been  with  him,"  he  continued,  "  many 
a  time  in  stores  and  other  places,  and  when 
other  boys  would  hook  a  little  here  and  a  little 
there,  he 'd  keep  his  hands  behind  him,  or  in 
his  pockets.  And  then,  father,  I 've  known  him 
to  go  on  errands  ;  and  he 's  very  good  to  oblige 
folks,  and  folks  like  him ;  and  I 've  seen  him 
saw  wood  and  get  shavings;  and  I 've  seen  his 
father,  and  folks  round  there,  give  him  money, 
and  he  take  it  to  buy  something  to  share  with 
the  boys ;  and  is  n't  that  honest  ? " 

The  father  owned  that  a  pretty  strong  case 
was  made  out,  and  he  felt  relieved  in  his  mind. 

If  all  children  could  give  as  good  evidence  of 
honesty  in  those  from  whom  they  take  presents 
at  times,  as  this  little  boy  gave,  and  take  no  gifts 


64      how  do  you  know  he 's  honest  ? 


unless  they  could  do  so,  parents  would  have  far 
less  anxiety  than  they  now  have,  respecting  their 
children  who  are  exposed  to  pernicious  influence 
ia  the  public  town  and  city  schools.  Such 
traits  of  character  as  were  described  by  the  little 
reasoner,  as  he  plead  for  the  honesty  of  his 
schoolmate,  are  admirable  in  any  child.  Where 
such  good  qualities  meet,  there  is  a  child  with 
whom  any  parent  would  be  glad  to  have  his  son 
asssociate.  No  matter  if  he  is  n't  dressed  as 
handsome  as  some  others.  Let  a  boy  never  tell 
a  lie  ;  let  him  never  steal  anywhere,  in  reference 
to  the  smallest  things  ;  and  let  him  be  obliging, 
generous,  and  willing  to  work  as  he  is  able,  and 
I  cannot  but  think  that  he  must  be  a  happy 
child,  a  joy  in  his  home,  a  gladness  to  his  par- 
ents. "Even  a  child  is  known  by  his  doings, 
whether  his  work  be  pure,  and  whether  it  be 
right."  Prov.  xx.  11.  Can  your  schoolmates, 
my  young  readers,  know  as  good  things  of  you 
as  this  young  reasoner  knew  of  the  doings  of  his 
friend  ? 


THE  SPIRIT  CHILD. 


BY  MISS  E.  DOTEN. 

"  To  thee,  sweet  Eden,  how  dark  and  sad 
Are  the  diamond  turrets  of  Shadukiam, 
Or  the  fragrant  bowers  of  Amberabad  I" 

Paradise  and  the  Peri. 

Who  has  not  heard  of  Fairy-land  arid  the 
fairies  ?  of  their  beautiful  cities,  their  pleasant 
groves,  their  moonlight  revels,  and  their  love  for 
little  children  ?  We  love  to  think  of  such  bright 
and  beautiful  things,  and  feel  almost  sad  when 
we  remember  it  is  all  a  fancy  ;  but  yet,  there  was 
a  child  in  a  far  eastern  country,  who  saw  fairer 
and  more  beautiful  things  than  were  ever  heard 
of  in  Fairy-land.  Her  father  was  what  is  called 
a  paria.  All  the  people  around  him  worshipped 
idols,  but  he  would  not,  and  so  they  drove  him 
from  among  them.  He  came,  with  his  wife  and 
little  one,  to  a  lonely  but  very  beautiful  valley, 
and  there  he  built  his  cabin  of  bamboo,  thatched 
with  palm-leaves,  and  lived  contented  and  happy. 
The  child  had  no  little  playmates,  and  no  one  to 
speak  to  but  her  father  and  mother.  She  was 
very  simple-hearted  and  innocent,  and  grew  more 
6 


m 


THE   SPIRIT  CHILD. 


gentle  and  lovely  every  day  she  lived.  The 
birds  and  flowers  seemed  like  brothers  and  sis- 
ters to  her ;  and  oh  !  it  was  a  strange  and  beau- 
tiful thing  to  see  how  her  heart  turned  towards 
God,  and  learned  to  love  him,  before  she  had 
ever  heard  his  name.  Wherever  the  children  of 
the  Great  Father  dwell,  and  however  rude  and 
ignorant  they  may  seem,  they  all  have  a  sense 
of  something  higher  and  holier  than  themselves, 
and  a  desire  to  love  and  worship.  Thus  did  the 
spirit  of  this  dear  child,  as  if  by  instinct,  see 
strange  beauty  in  all  things  around  her,  and 
learned  to  love  and  worship  God,  although  she 
was  never  taught  of  him.  She  would  often  wan- 
der away  alone  ;  then  it  seemed  as  if  the  birds 
and  flowers  talked  with  her,  and  the  bright 
waters  smiled  at  the  sound  of  her  footsteps. 
She  felt  so  very,  very  happy  —  a  joy  that  she 
eould  not  express  —  that  she  would  lay  her  hand 
upon  her  heart,  and  say,  "What  is  it?  oh! 
what  is  it  ? "  for  she  did  not  understand  that 
it  was  the  holy  spirit  that  God  had  given  her, 
that  always  fills  the  heart  with  love  and  happi- 
ness, when  it  meets  with  aught  of  a  kindred  na- 
ture ;  and  all  the  beautiful  creations  of  God  around 
her  were  as  pure  as  the  spirit  within;  therefore, 
while  she  held  sweet  communion  with  these,  she 
was  happy.    The  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding 


THE   SPIRIT  CHILD. 


67 


country  would  often  come  to  the  valley  to  gather 
fruit,  and  when  they  saw  her  sitting  under  the 
palm-trees,  or  kneeling  beside  the  running  waters, 
they  would  pass  her  by  in  silence,  for  they  said, 
"  She  sees  spirits,  and  is  talking  with  them ; 
we  will  not  trouble  her."  Therefore  they  called 
her  the  Spirit  Child. 

One  day,  as  she  sat  alone  in  the  cabin,  weav- 
ing a  little  basket,  a  stranger  entered.  His  gar- 
ments were  covered  with  dust,  and  he  looked 
very  pale  and  weary.  He  wished  to  rest  a  while, 
and  begged  her  to  give  him  a  cup  of  cold  water. 
She  brought  him  some  fruit  and  water,  and  a 
mat  to  lie  down  upon.  After  he  was  somewhat 
refreshed,  he  began  to  talk  with  her.  He  said 
he  had  travelled  in  many  countries,  that  he  had 
known  much  suffering,  met  with  many  hardships, 
and  been  in  great  danger ;  but,  through  the 
whole,  he  had  been  sustained  and  protected  by 
God,  the  Father  and  Friend  of  all,  who  had 
never  forsaken  him. 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  said  the  simple-hearted 
child,  as  she  looked  around  the  cabin  and  out  of 
the  door ;  "  what  made  him  leave  you  ?" 

The  stranger  smiled,  and  told  her  that  "  God 
is  a  spirit."  Then,  in  simple  and  earnest  words, 
he  explained  to  her  how  nearly  her  own  soul  was 
allied  to  God.    He  told  her  that  she  was  one  of 


68 


THE   SPIRIT  CHILD. 


the  dear  children  of  the  great  Father,  and  all  her 
moments  of  happiness,  her  holy  thoughts  and 
pure  impulses,  came  from  the  spirit  of  God 
dwelling  in  her  own  little  heart.  The  child  lis- 
tened to  him  with  large  and  wondering  eyes. 
All  the  strange  fancies  and  imperfect  ideas,  that 
had  long  passed  through  her  mind,  now  seemed 
to  come  into  beautiful  and  perfect  form,  and  she 
knew  now  what  had  often  made  her  feel  so 
happy.  But,  oh!  when  he  told  her  of  the  bright 
and  beautiful  heaven,  where  the  angels  dwell,  it 
seemed  almost  too  much  for  her  to  understand 
clearly ;  she  only  knew  that  she  longed  to  go 
there,  and  when  the  stranger  left  her,  she  sat 
like  one  in  a  dream,  wondering  how  she  might 
get  to  heaven, 

The  valley  where  she  dwelt  was  surrounded 
by  mountains,  some  of  which  seemed  to  touch 
the  clouds,  and  the  child  thought  if  she  could 
only  reach  the  top  of  one  of  these,  she  might 
go  directly  into  heaven,  or,  at  least,  hear  the 
sweet  singing  of  the  angels.  She  resolved,  in 
all  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  not  to  say  a  word 
to  her  father  and  mother,  but  the  next  morning 
she  would  begin  early  to  climb  up  the  mountain. 
She  could  scarcely  sleep  that  night,  her  mind 
was  so  wholly  filled  with  this  idea. 

The  next  morning,  at  the  first  peep  of  day,  she 


THE  SPIRIT  CHILD. 


■69 


sprang  from  her  bed,  and  opened  the  door  of  the 
cottage.  But,  alas !  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and 
the  heart  of  the  child  became  very  sad.  Before 
long  the  rain  ceased,  the  sun  came  forth,  and 
high  up  in  the  heavens  shone  a  beautiful  rain- 
bow. "  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  the  child,  as  she 
gazed  at  it  in  wonder  and  admiration,  "  what  a 
bright  thing  the  Father  has  placed  for  me  to  come 
up  to  him  on.  I  will  go  quickly  ;  but  first  I  will 
gather  some  roses  for  little  Zillah.  I  used  to 
play  with  her  a  long  time  ago,  but  she  died  and 
is  in  heaven  now.  Fairer  and  sweeter  roses 
grow  there,  but  she  will  be  so  glad  to  think  that 
I  remember  her.  Far  away,  where  the  watev 
falls  over  the  great  rock,  stands  the  end  of  this 
beautiful  arch;  I  shall  reach  it  soon,  and  then 
how  gladly  shall  I  go  up  to  that  blessed  heaven 
the  good  stranger  told  me  of!"  She  gathered  a 
few  half-blown  roses,  and  hastened  forward.  So 
earnest  was  she,  and  sure  she  should  find  where 
the  rainbow  stood  by  the  great  rock,  that  she  did 
not  once  think  to  look  up  to  the  clouds ;  but 
when  she  reached  the  wished-for  spot,  there  was 
no  rainbow,  or  the  least  shadow  of  one,  to  be 
seen,  and  above  her  was  a  dark,  frowning  cloud. 

Weary  and  disheartened,  she  sank  down  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.    Scarcely  had 
she  done  so,  when  she  heard  a  soft,  low  voice  say 
6* 


70 


THE  SPIRIT  CHILD. 


to  her,  "  Dear  child,  unto  thee  it  is  given  to  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Ask  and  thou  shalt 
receive,  seek  and  thou  shalt  find,  knock  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  thee.  The  pure  in  heart 
shall  see  God." 

The  child  raised  not  her  head ;  she  sat  still 
and  motionless,  but  her  spirit  seemed  to  rise  up 
like  a  joyous  bird  in  the  clear  sunlight.  The 
mists  that  lay  around  her  slowly  gathered  them- 
selves up  and  rolled  away,  as  the  soft  air,  moving 
to  the  melody  of  the  golden  harps,  gathered 
around  her  in  a  bright  silvery  garment ;  and,  lo  ! 
she  stood  beneath  the  tree  of  life,  that  grows 
beside  the  crystal  stream,  that  runneth  from  the 
throne  of  God,  in  the  midst  of  the  holy  city. 
The  odors  of  Eden  fell  sweetly  around  her  ;  the 
loving  angels  looked  kindly  upon  her,  while,  by 
her  side  stood  the  blessed  Lord  Jesus,  of  whom, 
the  stranger  had  spoken. 

"  Dear  lamb  of  my  flock,"  he  said,  "  what 
w~ouldst  thou  ?  "  "  Lord,  that  I  may  become  more 
like  thee,"  said  the  gentle-hearted  child.  "  Even 
thus  shall  it  be,"  he  answered  ;  "  the  Father  hath 
sent  thee  into  the  world  to  do  his  will.  Thou 
must  bear  the  bread  and  water  of  life  to  the 
hungry  and  thirsting  souls  around  thee.  Thou 
must  become  eyes  to  the  blind,  ears  to  the  deaf, 
feet  to  the  lame,  and  joy  to  the  despairing, 


THE  SPIPtlT  CHILD. 


71 


Patient  in  sorrow,  perfect  in  meekness,  trusting 
in  God.  By  doing  this  shalt  thou  assimilate 
thyself  to  me,  heaven  shall  ever  lie  around  thee, 
and  God  shall  dwell  in  thy  heart."  Reverently 
did  the  child  kneel  down  at  his  feet,  and  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  in  all  earnestness  of  spirit  she 
said,  "  I  am  ready  to  do  the  Father's  will,  even 
unto  death."  As  she  uttered  these  words,  a  soft, 
warm  air,  sweeter  than  the  breath  of  roses, 
seemed  to  rest  upon  her  brow.  Sensibly  and  per- 
ceptibly came  the  presence  of  the  Great  Spirit 
Father.  She  felt  that  he  was  near  her,  around 
her,  in  her  heart.  There  was  joy  among  the  an- 
gels, and  a  song  of  praise  was  on  every  lip,  for  the 
mighty  hosts  of  cherubim  and  seraphim  seemed 
to  be  moved  as  one,  by  the  all-pervading  presence 
of  God.  As  if  a  new  life  and  strength  had  been 
given  unto  her,  the  child  rose  up.  "  Now  am  I 
able  to  do  all  things,"  she  said,  "  since  the  Father 
hath  entered  into  my  heart ;  and  while  his  spirit 
shall  abide  with  me,  I  fail  not,  I  faint  not.  I  leave 
you,  bright  angels,  to  do  whatever  I  can  of  good 
in  the  earth,  and  when  my  mission  is  ended,  1 
shall  come  and  dwell  with  you  forever  and  ever. 
Dear  Father,  strengthen  me  against  temptation, 
and  deliver  me  from  evil,  and  I  shall  yet  do  thy 
will  upon  the  earth,  as  it  is  done  in  heaven  !" 
Then,  as  if  borne  on  the  wings  of  a  dove,  sh' 


72 


THE   SPIRIT  CHILD. 


floated  away  through  the  pure  air,  while  the 
music  of  the  crystal  waters,  and  the  sweet  voices 
of  the  angels,  seemed  to  follow  after  her  to  cheer 
her  onward  in  her  mission  ;  and  when  she  raised 
her  head,  and  found  herself  still  sitting  by  the 
great  rock,  in  the  shade  of  the  palm  tree,  that 
melody  was  still  in  her  heart.  But  this  was  not 
a  dream  — no,  it  was  not  a  dream  ;  neither  was  the 
child  carried  up  bodily,  beyond  the  sunandstars; 
into  an  outward  and  visible  creation  ;  but,  when 
she  came  with  a  spirit  yearning  after  the  holy 
and  beautiful,  to  seek  for  the  rainbow,  that  she 
might  enter  into  the  immediate  presence  of  God, 
and  found  it  not,  she  heard  the  voice  of  the 
Father  calling  her  out  of  the  depths  of  her  heart, 
to  enter  into  that  "  kingdom  of  heaven"  which 
the  Lord  Jesus  hath  said  is  within  us  ;  and  as  she 
held  communion  with  the  high  and  holy  thoughts 
that  came  to  her  like  the  voices  of  angels,  she 
received  more  of  the  spirit  of  all  good,  and  thus 
she  became  strengthened  for  the  duties  of  life. 

There  is  an  Eden  of  quietness  and  beauty  in 
every  gentle  heart,  that  truly  loves  the  Father, 
and  strives  to  do  his  will.  It  is  more  peaceful 
than  the  land  of  dreams,  more  beautiful  than 
the  regions  of  fancy.  There  come  the  pitying 
and  consoling  angels,  to  minister  unto  us  in  our 
hours  of  trial  and  temptation,  and  there  dwells 


THE   SPIRIT  CHILD. 


73 


the  Spirit  of  the  Great  Father.  Oh,  could  we 
oftener  enter  into  this  holy  place,  and  when  we 
say  "  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven,"  instead 
of  looking  up  to  the  blue  ether,  and  the  material 
worlds  above  us,  we  could  enter  more  truly  into 
this  "  kingdom  within"  us,  then  would  we  never 
wish  to  grieve  away  the  blessed  spirits  that  dwell 
there,  by  our  sin  and  unthankfulness.  Not  only 
would  there  be  a  heaven  within  us,  but  around 
us,  and  heart  joining  with  heart,  love  would  no 
longer  become  worn  and  wearied  by  unkindness, 
and  ^uger  and  resentment  would  become  only 
words  to  express  things  that  were. 


THE  COMPLAINT, 


BY  MRS.  N.   T.  MUNROE. 

There  is  no  sign  of  clearing, 
The  sky  is  dark  and  gray. 

And  faster  now 't  is  raining 
Than  it  has  rained  to-day. 

All  yesterday  was  gloomy, 

To-day  is  worse  by  far  ; 
T  fairly  long  to  see  the  sun, 

Or  e'en  a  single  star. 

But  this  continual  dropping 
Is  death  to  schemes  of  mine  ; 

The  sun  is  surely  crossing 
The  equinoctial  line. 

I  wish  it  could  have  put  it  off, 
Or  crossed  with  better  grace ; 

I 'm  sure  I  do  not  see  the  use 
Of  such  a  cloudy  face. 

Some  other  time  I  should  have  liked 
This  long-continued  rain, 

But  now  I  surely  must  confess 
It  gives  less  joy  than  pain. 


THE  COMPLAINT. 


75 


I  ofttimes  like  a  rainy  day, 

Or  even  two  together  ; 
But  now,  I  did  not  calculate 

Upon  this  gloomy  weather. 

There  is  no  sign  of  clearing, 
The  wind  is  out  dead  east  ; 

I  know,  I 'm  sure,  that  it  will  rain 
A  week  or  so,  at  least. 


HOW  CHILDKEN  MAY  BE  HAPPY, 


BY  CHARLES  W.  SWASEY. 

The  song  of  the  nightingale  is  not  so  musical 
as  the  artless  prattle  of  a  happy  child ;  and  his 
rosy  cheeks  and  glowing  countenance  are  more 
lovely  to  gaze  upon  than  the  most  beautiful 
flowers  of  the  garden.  But  children  are  not 
always  happy,  and  principally  because  they  do 
not  always  obey  their  parents.  This  is  the 
secret  of  many  of  their  little  crosses  and  vexa- 
tions, and,  indeed,  of  many  of  the  greater  mis- 
fortunes of  life.  While,  on  the  other  hand, 
those  children  who  are  obedient  to  their  parents 
in  all  things,  generally  grow  up  to  be  good  men 
and  women.  To  illustrate  this  obvious,  but  im- 
portant truth,  we  will  tell  our  little  readers  a  story 
about  the  misfortunes  of  a  lad  who  would  not 
mind  his  parents,  and  another  about  the  good 
fortunes  of  a  boy  who  loved  his  father  and  his 
mother,  and  was  always  ready  to  do  their  bidding. 

Some  thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  there  lived  in 
Frampton,  in  the  county  of  Lincolnshire,  Eng- 
land,  a   lad   named  William  L  n.  He 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


77 


was  the  son  of  a  farmer,  and  was  at  an  early 
age  sent  to  the  Sunday  school,  where  he  imbibed 
a  respect  for  the  name  and  character  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  which,  in  after  life,  served  to  re- 
strain him  from  crimes  that  he  might  otherwise 
have  committed.  But  he  was  indolent  in  his 
studies,  and  excessively  fond  of  amusement, 
which  often  involved  him  in  trouble,  and  ren- 
dered him  amenable  to  the  laws  of  the  land, 
besides  subjecting  him  to  his  father's  displeasure. 
His  amusements  were  principally  those  of  rob- 
bing gardens  and  orchards,  trapping  game,  and 
hunting  birds'  nests.  To  this  last  named  evil 
he  was  so  much  addicted  as  frequently  to  expose 
himself  to  the  most  imminent  danger  of  breaking 
his  limbs  and  losing  his  life  ;  and  he  suffered 
severely  by  climbing  into  thorn-hedges  in  pursuit 
of  his  object,  besides  sometimes  tearing  his 
clothes  in  rags. 

I  wish  my  young  readers  to  remember  that 

William  L  n  indulged   these  mischievous 

propensities,  as  often  and  as  far  as  circumstances 
would  permit,  in  defiance  of  the  strictest  in- 
junctions of  his  parents  to  the  contrary.  Had 
he  obeyed  them,  and  refrained  from  his  sinful 
pursuits,  he  would  have  escaped  the  censure  and 
severe  punishment  which  he  often  received  as 
the  consequence  of  his  offences.  These  were 
7 


78 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


numerous,  but  we  will  riot  stop  now  to  mention 
them.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  became  a 
source  of  painful  uneasiness  to  his  parents,  who 
deemed  it  necessary  to  put  him  out  to  service,  hop- 
ing that  the  instructions  of  experience  would  make 
him  a  better  boy.  He  was,  accordingly,  sent  to 
live  with  a  respectable  farmer  some  twelve  miles 
from  his  home  ;  but  his  master,  not  needing  him 
as  a  servant,  William  soon  left  and  returned  to 
his  father's  house. 

William  was  again  put  out  to  live,  at  a  greater 
distance  from  home;  but  his  master  was  a  pas- 
sionate man,  and  would  censure  him  for  the 
slightest  offence.  He  became  dissatisfied  with  his 
treatment,  by  ;  dared  not  utter  a  complaint.  He 
thought  of  home,  yet  feared  to  return  there,  for 
he  had  offended  his  parents  by  his  unruly  con- 
duct. Still  he  determined  to  leave  this  unpleasant 
place  of  service,  and  seek  employment  elsewhere. 
He  engaged  himself  as  a  groom  or  horse-keeper, 
to  the  landlord  of  a  tavern ;  but  here,  as  in  the 
former  case,  his  employer  proved  to  be  an  ill- 
tempered  and  fault-finding  man,  so  much  so  that 
his  servants  never  remained  long  in  his  employ. 
William's  condition  was  now  but  little  better  than 
that  of  a  slave.  Among  his  other  toils,  he  was 
obliged,  on  every  Sabbath  day,  to  take  a  horse  to 
a  clergyman,  four  miles  distant,  and  return  on  foot 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY.  79 

before  breakfast ;  and  in  the  evening  to  go  on 
foot  and  bring  it  back  again.  Besides  this,  his 
food  was  unwholesome,  consisting  of  a  little  meat 
half  boiled,  and  bread  made  of  the  coarsest  ma- 
terials, scantily  baked,  and  full  of  coals.  His 
father,  learning  of  his  situation,  sent  to  relieve 
his  wants  and  urge  him  to  return  home  ;  but, 
needy  as  he  was,  he  was  proof  against  both  the 
kindness  of  his  friends,  and  the  love  of  his  par- 
ents ;  and  instead  of  obeying  their  request,  he 
went  to  work  as  a  day-laborer  in  the  outskirts  of 
the  town.  He  remained  in  this  occupation  for 
some  time,  but  wages  being  low,  and  labor 
scarce,  it  was  with  difficulty  he  procured  a 
scanty  subsistence,  which  induced  him  to  leave 
the  place  and  offer  himself  as  a  soldier.  He 
accordingly  went  to  Horncastle,  and  requested 
to  be  joined  to  the  2d  regiment  of  Rifle  Guards, 
but  was  objected  to  as  being  too  short.  Deter- 
mined not  to  be  disappointed,  he  left  this  place 
and  went  to  Lincoln,  where  he  offered  himself  a 
second  time,  and  was  rejected  on  the  same 
ground  as  before,  because  he  was  not  sufficiently 
tall. 

These  repeated  disappointments  robbed  Wil- 
liam of  his  spirits,  and  made  him  the  victim  of 
despondency ;  hope  forsook  his  bosom,  and  pros- 
perity refused  to  smile  upon  him.    In  the  Ian- 


80 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  EE  HAPPY. 


guage  of  the  prodigal  son,  he  said,  "  I  will  arise 
and  go  to  my  father."  The  next  Sabbath  he 
reached  his  home,  where  his  parents  received 
him  with  joy  and  kindness,  and  his  sorrows  and 
his  wanderings  were  forgotten  ;  and  had  he  con- 
tinued to  obey  their  loving  counsel  and  advice, 
many  of  his  subsequent  sufferings  would  have 
been  avoided.  But,  on  the  succeeding  summer 
he  entered  the  employ  of  a  gentleman  in  a  neigh- 
boring town,  where  his  hard  fortune  followed 
him.  His  master  was  passionate  and  cruel,  and 
twice  whipped  him  most  unjustly.  He  left; 
but  instead  of  going  to  his  home,  as  he  should 
have  done,  he  went  to  the  town  of  Stamford,  in 
company  with  a  dissolute  youth,  to  gratify  whose 
intemperance  he  was  obliged  to  sell  his  watch, 
and  expend  his  last  shilling.  William  then  aban- 
doned this  ungrateful  companion,  and  again 
offered  himself  as  a  soldier,  but  without  success. 
He  was  now  without  money,  and  compelled  to 
sell  a  portion  of  the  clothing  which  he  wore  to 
procure  food  to  satisfy  his  hunger.  He  wandered 
from  place  to  place,  with  little  to  eat,  with  noth- 
ing to  do,  and  sometimes  obliged  to  beg  for  food, 
or  starve  Once  more,  and  it  proved  for  the  last 
time,  he  resolved  to  seek  the  shelter  of  his  child- 
hood's home,  where  he  arrived  on  the  Sabbath 
day.    He  had.  previously  engaged  himself  to 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


Si 


work  with  a  gentleman  in  a  town  some  miles 
distant  from  Stamford,  and  returned  the  follow- 
ing day,  Monday,  to  fulfil  his  engagement.  His 
mother  accompanied  him  as  far  as  Boston,  a  town 
adjoining  his  native  village,  where  she  purchased 
him  a  suit  of  clothes.  She  then  retired  with 
him  to  the  solitude  of  the  graveyard,  and  there 
imprinted  the  last  warm  kiss  of  affection  upon 
his  burning  cheek  —  there  took  the  last  fond  em- 
brace of  her  wayward  child  —  and  there  uttered 
her  last  endearing  words,  —  "  Farewell,  my  son, 
be  a  good  boy  ! " 

William  had  lived  at  his  new  place  but  six 
weeks,  when  his  master  called  him  one  morning, 
gave  him  one  shilling,  and  dismissed  him  from 
his  employ.  With  this  one  shilling  in  his  pocket 
he  left  for  Lincoln,  where  he  sold  such  articles 
of  clothing  as  he  could  spare,  to  obtain  means  to 
travel  with.  He  vainly  solicited  employment  in 
several  towns,  until  at  last  he  was  driven,  by  im- 
perious necessity,  to  enlist  as  a  soldier.  After  a 
number  of  unsuccessful  attempts,  he  succeeded  in 
joining  a  rifle  regiment,  stationed  at  Montreal, 
on  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  in  Canada  East. 
Thus,  on  the  6th  day  of  December,  1820,  at  the 

age  of  only  15  years,  William  L  n  enlisted 

for  life,  as  a  soldier  in  the  British  service. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  my  young  readers  to 
7* 


82  HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 

enter  into  a  detail  of  the  hardships  and  sufferings 
of  a  British  soldier's  life,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
am  speaking  ;  but  I  have  not  time  to  do  this,  and 
can  only  tell  you  that  they  were  subjected  to  a 
round  of  unceasing  toil,  and  never  permitted  to  go 
beyond  the  sound  of  the  drum..  Martial  laws  were 
very  strict,  and  the  punishment  for  their  infringe- 
ment very  severe.  If  a  soldier  was  found  guilty 
of  stealing,  he  was  punished  with  three  hundred, 
lashes  upon  the  bare  hack  ;  and  for  some  crimes  the 
unfortunate  victims  were  doomed  to  receive  seven 
hundred  lashes  !  These  punishments  generally 
disabled  the  culprit  for  weeks  or  months,  and 
sometimes  caused  death.  Yfilliam,  however, 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  the  martial  whip, 
though  he  endured  many  other  hardships,  such 
as  hunger,  fatigue,  cold,  &c. 

Let  us  now  follow  our  young  hero  across  the 
broad  Atlantic,  until  he  arrives  in  Montreal,  on 
the  American  continent.  Here  he  was  duly 
joined  to  his  regiment,  and  here  he  renewed  and 
continued  his  life  of  toil  and  suffering.  Seeing  no 
reason  to  hope  that  his  condition  would  ever  be 
more  tolerable,  in  about  two  years  he  conceived 
the  design  of  deserting  his  regiment  and  running 
away  to  the  United  States.  To  effect  this  design, 
he  stole  a  horse  from  one  of  the  officers,  and 
a  small  sum  of  money  to  obtain  food  on  the 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


way ;  and  on  a  cold  night  in  the  month  of  Feb- 
ruary, thinly  clad,  and  without  an  outer  gar- 
ment, he  commenced  his  escape  on  horseback. 
The  cold  was  so  intense  that  he  froze  his  hands 
and  feet,  and,  after  travelling  forty  miles,  he  put 
up  at  a  tavern,  and  called  for  some  refreshments. 
While  at  this  tavern,  the  landlord  suspected  him 
of  being-  a  deserter,  took  effectual  steps  to  ascer- 
tain the  fact,  and  reported  him  to  his  officers. 
To  us  it  seems  cruel  that  the  landlord  should 
have  done  this  :  but  he  was  an  unfeeling  man, 
and  betrayed  the  young  soldier  because  he  should 
receive  for  it  the  sum  of  thirty  dollars,  which  the 
British  army  then  paid  for  the  detection  of  de- 
serters. William  was  now  conveyed  back  to 
Montreal,  where  he  was  tried  for  the  crimes  of 
desertion  and  theft,  and  condemned  to  die.  The 
juiy,  however,  recommended  him  to  mercy,  and 
after  lying  in  prison  a  few  weeks,  bound  in  irons, 
the  governor  was  prevailed  upon  to  remit  the 
sentence  of  death,  and  to  consign  him  to  five 
years'  hard  labor  in  the  jail  at  Quebec.  And 
here,  immured  within  the  massive  walls  of  a  cold 
and  cheerless  prison,  compelled  to  subsist  on 
coarse  and  scanty  food,  and  to  pick  thirty  pounds 
of  oakum  per  week,  we  will  take  leave  of  our 
young  and  unfortunate  hero. 

I  have  said  that  William  was  "  unfortunate 


84 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


but  have  my  young  readers  reflected,  that  the 
cause  of  all  his  misfortunes  was  disobedience  to 
his  parents'  commands  when  a  boy  and  living 
at  home  ?  Such  is  the  fact;  and  the  story  of  his 
sufferings  I  trust  you  will  all  remember,  and  be 
warned  by  them  to  shun  the  example  of  his  early 
youth. 

The  other  story  which  I  promised  to  relate,  is 
of  one  whose  name  is  familiar  to  every  child. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  years,  George  Wash- 
ington felt  a  very  strong  desire  to  follow  the  sea, 
and  accordingly  obtained  a  warrant  as  midship- 
man in  the  British  navy.  His  then  widowed 
mother  was  grieved  at  the  thought  of  parting 
with  her  loved  and  only  son,  and  entreated  him 
to  relinquish  his  design  and  remain  with  her. 
George  was  a  good  boy;  he  could  not  think 
of  acting  contrary  to  his  mother's  wishes,  and, 
therefore,  resigned  his  commission,  in  obedience 
to  her  request.  "This  act  of  duty,"  says  one  of 
his  biographers,  "  prepared  the  way  for  that 
brilliant  career  of  greatness  which  ended  in  free- 
ing a  nation,  and  earning  for  him  the  noblest  of 
all  titles,  that  of  '  Father  of  his  Country.'  "  Had 
George  Washington  been  a  wilful  and  disobedient 
boy,  he  would  have  entered  the  service  of  the  Brit- 
ish navy,  despite  the  entreaties  of  his  mother ;  and 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


85 


then,  instead  of  immortalizing  his  name  and  his 
memory,  by  the  greatness  and  the  goodness  of  his 
after  life,  and  being  the  chief  instrument,  in  the 
hands  of  God,  of  freeing  this  now  great  and  happy 
country  from  British  oppression,  he  would  in  all 
probability  have  fought  against  our  liberties,  and 
perhaps  have  died  unhonored  in  a  foreign  land. 
But  now,  "there  is  no  speech  nor  language" 
where  the  name  of  Washington  is  not  repeated 
with  reverence  and  respect.  He  is  everywhere 
regarded  as  a  model  of  human  greatness ;  and 
no  higher  aspiration  can  be  cherished  than  to  be 
like  Washington,  the  political  saviour  of  his 
country,  unless  we  except  a  sincere  desire  to  be 
like  Jesus,  the  spiritual  Saviour  of  the  world. 
The  secret  of  his  greatness  was  his  goodness, 
and  the  secret  of  his  goodness  was  filial  obedi- 
ence to  his  parents  in  his  childhood,  to  his  wid- 
owed mother  in  his  boyhood,  and  to  his  God  in 
manhood.  On  the  14th  day  of  December,  1799, 
at  the  age  of  67  years,  this  good  man  died,  and 
was  buried  near  his  residence  at  Mount  Vernon, 
deeply  mourned  by  millions  of  grateful  and  lov- 
ing people.  Should  any  of  my  young  readers 
ever  be  so  happy  as  to  visit  the  "  Grave  of 
Washington,"  I  hope  they  will  remember  and 
there  repeat  the  following  beautiful  lines,  written 
by  Marshall  S.  Pike  : 


86 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


t;  Disturb  not  his  slubbers  !  let  Washington  sleep 
'Neath  the  boughs  of  the  willow  that  over  him  weep 
His  arm  is  unnerved,  but  his  deeds  remain  bright 
As  the  stars  in  the  dark-vaulted  heaven  at  night. 
Oh  !  wake  not  the  hero  ;  his  battles  are  o'er  ; 
Let  him  sleep  undisturbed  on  Potomac's  fair  shore  ; 
On  the  river's  green  border,  so  flow'ry  dressed, 
With  the  hearts  he  loved  fondly,  let  Washington  rest. 

Awake  not  his  slumbers  !  tread  lightly  around  ! 
'Tis  the  grave  of  a  freeman,  'tis  Liberty's  mound  ! 
Thy  name  is  immortal  —  our  Freedom  it  won  — 
Brave  sire  of  Columbia,  our  own  Washington  ! 
Oh  !  wake  not  the  hero  ;  his  battles  are  o'er  ; 
Let  him  sleep,  calmly  sleep,  on  his  dear  native  shore. 
While  the  stars  and  the  stripes  of  our  country  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  that  can  boast  of  a  Washington's  grave.'' 

How  lovely,  how  beautiful  is  this  portrait  of 
Washington !  There  are  no  stains  to  mar  its 
beauty,  no  shades  of  evil  to  dim  its  brightness. 
Every  feature  is  stamped  with  a  dignity,  and  a 
veneration  which  command  our  deepest  respect. 
And  does  it  not  induce  a  desire  in  my  youn  ^ 
readers  to  be  like  "Washington  —  great,  and  good, 
and  beloved  ?  The  first  step  to  be  taken,- then, 
is  to  obey  your  parents,  who  love  and  care  for 
you  so  tenderly.  Ancient  history  tells  us  of  a 
king  who  made  a  law  against  a  certain  crime,  in 
which  it  was  enacted  that  the  offender  should  be 
punished  with  the  loss  of  both  eyes.    The  very 


HOW  CHILDREN  MAY  BE  HAPPY. 


87 


first  transgressor  was  the  king's  own  son.  The 
case  was  a  distressing  one,  for  the  king  was  an 
affectionate  father,  as  well  as  a  just  magistrate. 
After  much  painful  reflection,  the  king  com- 
manded one  of  his  own  eyes  to  be  pulled  out,  and 
one  of  his  son's.  Here  you  see  demonstrated  the 
power  of  parental  love.  To  have  taken  both  the 
eyes  of  his  son,  would  have  rendered  him  blind 
forever  ;  but,  rather  than  bring  upon  him  so  great 
a  misfortune,  and  yet,  to  enforce  the  demands  of 
his  own  law,  the  king  chose  to  share  his  son's 
distress.  This  was  an  act  of  affection  which 
none  but  a  parent  could  perform.  If,  then,  they 
love  you  so  tenderly,  is  it  too  much  that  you 
should  follow  their  direction  and  advice  while 
young,  and  unable  to  act  wisely  for  yourselves  ? 


ELLEN  GRANT, 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DAUGHTER. 

BY   MRS.  MARY    A.  LIVERMORE. 

Few  children  pass  through  as  much  trial  and 
sorrow  as  did  Ellen  Grant,  during  the  first 
twelve  or  fifteen  years  of  her  life.  Few  are  as 
heavily  pressed  with  care  as  she  was,  or  have 
as  many  and  as  arduous  duties  to  perform. 
And  yet  few,  with  age  and  experience  twice  her 
own,  would  have  been  more  faithful  in  their  dis- 
charge, more  uncomplaining,  or  more  devoted. 
Allow  me,  young  readers,  to  narrate  to  you  her 
history,  which,  i  assure  you,  is  not  fiction,  but 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  unimportant  altera- 
tions, is  wholly  true. 

Ellen  Grant  and  her  young  brother  and  sister 
were  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  an  intemperate 
father.  When  not  under  the  influence  of  ardent 
spirits,  Mr.  Grant  was  a  kind,  industrious  man, 
and  loved  his  little  family,  and  sought  to  provide 
for  their  wants  —  but  when  intoxicated,  he  was 
unfeeling,  indolent,  and  an  object  of  fear.  Mrs, 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


91 


Grant,  the  poor  wife,  was  in  feeble  health,  and 
was  compelled  to  toil  so  hard  to  assist  in  main- 
taining the  family,  that  every  year  found  her 
paler,  thinner  and  weaker.  Had  her  husband 
been  a  man  of  sober,  industrious  habits,  her 
labor  would  have  been  comparatively  easy ;  for 
then  good  food  and  clothing  would  have  been 
furnished  for  herself  and  little  ones,  and  her 
household  duties  would  have  been  so  lightened 
by  the  careful,  dutiful  Ellen,  as  to  have  rendered 
them  very  slight.  But  the  wages  earned  by  Mr, 
Grant  were  chiefly  squandered  at  the  bar-room, 
and  in  the  dram-shop,  and  Mrs.  Grant,  feeble  as 
she  was,  was  therefore  obliged  to  go  out  among  the 
families  of  the  town,  to  wash,  iron,  clean  house, 
or  sew,  as  she  was  needed,  leaving  Ellen  to 
attend  to  affairs  at  home. 

The  family  were  necessarily  poor  and  desti- 
tute. Their  food  was  coarse  and  scanty,  their 
clothing  poor,  and  insufficient  to  keep  them  com- 
fortable in  the  cold  weather,  while  their  dwelling, 
a  rough,  old  house,  unfit  to  live  in,  was  meanly 
furnished.  Not  only  did  they  suffer  from  pov- 
erty, from  cold  and  hunger,  but  they  endured 
much  from  Mr.  Grant's  unkindness,  when  fren- 
zied with  liquor.  Many  an  undeserved  blow  did 
little  Ellen,  and  her  brother  and  sister,  Susy  and 
Freddy,  receive  from  the  heavy  hand  of  their  bru- 
8 


92 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


tal  father ;  blows,  whose  dark  marks  were  left 
upon  the  tender  flesh  for  weeks  afterwards. 
Even  the  pale-faced  suffering  wife,  a  slender, 
broken-spirited  woman,  was  sometimes  confined 
to  her  bed  for  days,  by  her  husband's  ill  treat- 
ment. 

Yet  no  word  of  complaint  ever  came  from 
their  lips ;  no  one  ever  heard  them  speak  unkindly 
or  harshly  of  their  drunken  husband  and  father; 
and  despite  his  ill-usage,  both  wife  and  children 
dealt  with  him  kindly.  A  sadness  seemed 
always  to  rest  upon  them,  and  tears  might  often 
be  seen  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Grant  and  Ellen, 
who,  being  older,  realized  more  their  wretched- 
ness than  the  other  children  —  but  reproaches  of 
him  who  caused  all  their  trouble  were  never 
heard. 

Hard  labor,  trouble,  and  anxiety,  wore  more 
and  more  upon  Mrs.  Grant's  delicate  constitution, 
until  she  became  reduced  almost  to  a  shadow, 
and  those  who  saw  her,  predicted  that  she  would 
soon  depart  from  her  cares  and  trials  forever. 
One  morning,  when  Ellen  was  a  little  more  than 
ten  years  old,  her  mother  rose  as  usual,  to  go 
about  her  daily  labor,  but,  as  Ellen  observed,  with 
a  paler  face,  and  more  weakness  than  ever. 
The  dutiful  child,  ever  awake  to  the  cares  and 
sorrows  of  her  feeble  parent,  assisted  her  as  far 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


93 


as  she  could  ;  but  when  she  entered  the  rough, 
ill-furnished  apartment  with  a  handful  of  sticks 
she  had  gathered  for  the  fire,  she  found  her  poor 
mother  extended  upon  the  floor,  apparently 
lifeless. 

Ellen  did  not  scream,  or  run  off  for  the  neigh- 
bors, leaving  her  mother  alone,  as  many  children 
would,  but  opening  the  door  that  the  fresh  air 
might  come  to  her  mother,  and  spreading 
over  her  a  blanket  to  prevent  her  taking  cold, 
she  mingled  camphor  and  water  in  a  cup,  and 
tried  to  force  some  of  it  into  the  sufferer's  mouth. 
This  had  not  the  desired  effect ;  and  bringing  a 
piggin  of  cold  water,  she  sat  down  upon  a  block 
of  wood,  which  answered  the  purpose  of  a  stool, 
and  lifting  her  mother's  head  into  her  lap,  she 
bathed  her  temples  and  forehead,  and  moistened 
her  pale  lips  until  signs  of  life  returned. 

By  this  time,  Susy,  whom  Ellen  had  despatched 
for  aid,  returned  with  one  or  two  kind  women, 
who  summoned  the  doctor.  He  attended  her  for 
a  few  days,  but  he  could  do  her  no  good  ;  and 
ere  a  fortnight  passed  away,  the  poor  children 
were  motherless.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  time  for 
them ;  she  who  had  loved  them  dearly,  and 
wThom  they  had  loved,  who  had  folded  them  to 
her  heart,  and  wept  over  them,  was  hidden  from 
their  sight  in  the  grave ;  and  as  the  poor  little 


94 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


creatures  gathered  closely  together,  and  wept  io 
one  another's  arms,  they  felt  lonely  indeed.  Poor 
Ellen  was  the  most  to  be  pitied  ;  she  was  the 
eldest,  and  realized  their  wretched  situation,  and 
being  very  sensitive,  it  cut  her  to  the  heart. 

The  town's  people  were  now  very  desirous  to 
remove  the  children  from  their  father's  tyranny 
and  bad  example,  and  places  would  have  been 
provided  for  them  in  good  families  ;  but  Ellen 
wept  so  bitterly  when  it  was  proposed  to  separate 
Susy  and  Freddy  and  herself,  and  Mr.  Grant 
raved  so  fiercely  at  the  proposal,  that  it  was 
abandoned.  Ellen,  young  as  she  was,  immedi- 
ately stepped  into  her  mother's  place,  and  dis- 
charged her  duties.  She  cooked  the  food,  made, 
repaired,  and  washed  the  clothing,  kept  the  house 
neat  and  tidy,  and  besides  this,  found  time  to 
braid  palm-leaf  hats  for  the  hat  and  bonnet  man- 
ufactory in  the  town,  and  to  teach  Freddy  and 
Susy  to  do  the  same,  by  which  they  earned  a 
small  sum  each  week. 

During  the  winter  and  summer  months,  when 
only  a  school  was  taught  in  the  town,  Susy  and 
Freddy  were  regularly  sent  to  school,  and  Ellen 
herself,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  cares,  contrived 
to  pass  an  hour  or  two  each  day  in  the  school- 
room, which  the  teacher  kindly  sought  to  make 
as  profitable  to  her  as   possible.    Every  one 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


95 


praised  the  good  girl's  industry  and  thoughtful- 
ness,  and  every  one  also  pitied  her  that  she 
should  be  debarred  from  all  the  joys  of  her  age, 
and  be  oppressed  with  care.  Yet  few  girls  would 
have  been  as  happy  as  she,  severely  as  she  la- 
bored, if  her  father  had  been  a  temperate  man. 

One  —  two  —  three  —  four  years  passed  away, 
and  Mr.  Grant  became  worse  instead  of  better. 
Every  year  he  brought  less  and  less  of  his  earnings 
to  his  family,  and  often  came  home  at  night  so  furi- 
ous, that  the  children  were  obliged  to  flee  for  their 
lives.  Hard  words  and  harder  blows  were  con- 
stantly dealt  out  to  them  by  the  unnatural  father; 
and  yet  the  children,  when  questioned  about  the 
bruises  they  bore  on  their  arms,  faces,  and  necks, 
would  always  evade  a  direct  answer,  and  simply 
say  "  they  had  got  hurt." 

Ellen  was  too  sensitive  to  be  willing  that  all 
her  father's  excesses  should  be  known,  and  when 
they  had  suffered  the  most  from  his  cruelty,  and 
were  weeping  from  the  pain  he  had  inflicted, 
she  would  enjoin  secrecy  upon  her  brother  and 
sister,  and  charge  them  "not  to  tell  anybody 
about  it."  But  oh,  how  the  poor  child  thought  of 
her  dead  mother,  and  sometimes  longed  to  lie  down 
beside  her  !  How  she  wept  day  and  night,  her  eyes 
raining  tears,  tears,  tears,  all  the  time  !  How  sad, 
how  very  sad,  grew  her  face,  the  tone  of  her 
8* 


96 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


voice,  and  even  her  manners  !  Everybody  said 
"  Poor  Ellen  Grant !  "  but  no  one  seemed  able  to 
relieve  her.  Her  father  would  not  reform,  nor 
would  he  suffer  his  family  to  be  broken  up  — 
and  what  could  be  done  ? 

But  about  a  year  ago,  a  severe  sickness  came 
upon  the  drunken  father,  which  confined  him  to 
his  bed  for  many  weeks,  and  so  reduced  him, 
that  no  one  expected  his  recovery.  The  physi- 
cian came  to  see  him,  and  some  of  the  people  of 
the  town,  but,  except  his  children,  few  hoped  that 
he  would  get  well ;  they  thought  it  would  be  a 
blessing  to  his  family  if  he  did  not  live. 

But  his  good  child,  his  dutiful  Ellen,  hung 
over  him  as  if  he  were  the  best  of  fathers  ;  she 
bathed  his  swollen  and  painful  limbs,  cooled  his 
fevered  brow,  and  spake  kindly  and  gently  to 
him,  even  when  he  raved  at,  and  cursed  her. 
But,  by  and  by,  the  dreadful  pain  which 
racked  him.  was  stilled;  and  then,  as  he  lay 
helpless  in  bed,  he  noticed  his  excellent  child's 
industry,  patience  and  forbearance,  her  gentle 
attendance  upon  him,  and  her  habitual  sadness. 
Every  day  he  saw  her  going  through  a  round  of 
duties,  which  would  have  fatigued  an  experienced 
person,  half  a  dozen  years  older,  economizing, 
laboring,  guiding  and  advising  Freddy  and  Susy 
as  a  mother  would,  and  attending  to  his  wants 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


97 


like  a  skilful  nurse  — and  this,  when  she  was  but 
fourteen  years  old. 

He  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  as  I  have  told 
you,  when  not  intoxicated,  and  one  day,  as  her 
pale,  sad  face  was  bending  over  his  pillow,  while 
her  hands  gently  bathed  his  brow,  and  smoothed 
his  tangled  hair,  a  tear  sprang  to  his  eye,  and 
he  said  gently  and  tenderly,  — 

"  Ellen,  you  are  a  good  girl,  and  when  I  get 
out  again,  I  '11  buy  you  a  handsome  present." 

"  Oh,  no,  father  !"  said  Ellen  sadly  ;  "  I  don't 
want  any  present ;  no,  father,  I 'd  rather — "  and 
she  stopped,  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"Well,  what,  Ellen?"  asked  Mr.  Grant; 
"  what  were  you  going  to  say  ?    Speak  out." 

Looking  into  his  face,  and  seeing  the  kind- 
ness that  beamed  there,  Ellen  threw  her  arm 
over  her  father,  and  burying  her  face  in  his 
bosom,  sobbed  out,  "  Don't  be  angry,  father,  dorit 
be  angry  ;  but  oh,  I 'd  rather  you 'd  sign  the 
pledge!  That  would  make  us  all  so  happy!" 
and  the  bed  shook  with  her  emotion.  Mr.  Grant 
lifted  her  pale  face  to  the  pillow  beside  his  own ; 
the  tears  of  both  father  and  child  mingled 
together.  He  pressed  a  kiss  on  her  wan  cheek 
—  the  first  he  had  bestowed  on  her  for  years  — 
but  he  said  not  a  word.  A  few  moments,  and 
Ellen  lifted  her  head  from  the  pillow,  and  left  the 


93 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


room,  to  relieve  her  heart  by  a  yet  more  copious 
flood  of  tears. 

That  afternoon,  when  Susy  and  Freddy  came 
from  school,  he  called  the  former  to  his  bedside, 
and  in  a  low  tone  said,  "  Susy,  I  want  you  to 
go  to  Mr.  Comstock's,  and  ask  him  to  come 
up  here  this  evening.  Tell  him  to  bring  the 
pledge  with  him." 

Now  my  young  readers  must  know  that  Mr. 
Comstock  was  President  of  the  Total  Abstinence 
Society,  and  that  he  had  often  vainly  endeavored 
to  get  Mr.  Grant's  name  on  the  pledge.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  Susy  stared  at  her  father  as 
though  she  thought  him  crazy,  and  that  he  was 
obliged  to  repeat  his  request  a  second  time. 
Then,  when  she  comprehended  her  father's  wish, 
she  bounded  from  the  room  like  a  wild  fawn, 
treading  on  pussy,  who  was  asleep  on  the  floor, 
overturning  a  chair,  and  tearing  her  dress  on  a 
nail  which  caught  it,  and  actually  jumping  up 
and  down  for  joy  as  she  communicated  the  news 
to  Ellen  and  Freddy.    Freddy  jumped  up  a  good 
way  from  the  ground,  and  gave  a  loud  "  hurrah  !  " 
boy-fashion,  and  then  away  they  scampered  to 
Mr.  Comstock's,  hatless  and  bonnetless,  outstrip- 
ping horses  and  wagons  in  their  joyful  speed. 
Ellen,  poor  child  !  who  was  left  behind,  burst 
out  afresh,  and  was  weeping  when  the  little 
ones  returned. 


ELLEN  GRANT. 


99 


Mr.  Comstock  came  up,  as  desired,  and  Mr. 
Grant,  trembling-  with  weakness,  wrote  his  name 
underneath  the  pledge.  Oh ,  how  happy  were  his 
children !  Susy  climbed  up  on  the  bed  to  kiss 
him,  Ellen  wept,  and  then  laughed  through  her 
tears,  and  Freddy  flew  round  the  room  like  a 
spinning  top,  longing  to  "hurrah!"  again, 
catching  up  poor  pussy,  hugging  Ellen  round 
the  waist,  and  performing  various  other  antics. 

It  is  a  year,  nearly,  since  then,  and  Mr.  Grant 
has  not  broken  his  pledge  ;  and  we  now  think  the 
reformation  will  be  a  lasting  one.  His  family  now 
are  comfortable,  and  happy ;  and  instead  of  fear- 
ing their  father,  they  love  him.  They  have  now 
the  comforts  of  life ;  they  have  better  food,  better 
clothing,  and  better  furniture,  in  their  house. 
Mr.  Grant  says  every  day  that  he  is  as  happy 
a  man  as  there  is  in  town,  and  that  for  his 
reformation,  and  his  present  happiness,  he  has 
to  thank  his  good  child,  his  excellent  daughter, 
Ellen. 


CHILDREN  IN  TRADE. 

BY  MRS.   M.   H.  ADAMS. 

"  Here,  little  boy  ;  I  want  to  see  you  a  min- 
ute," said  a  boy  of  ten  years  to  a  little  boy  of  a 
group  of  three.  The  boy  to  whom  he  spoke  had 
a  tin  whistle,  a  bird-call,  enjoying  its  shrill 
sound ;  and  when  the  large  boy  called,  he 
took  it  from  his  mouth  and  went  towards  the 
other. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  that  ?  — I  '11  give  you 
this,"  said  the  large  boy,  taking  something  from 
his  own  mouth. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  little  fellow. 

"  Pitch  ;  pitch  to  chew,"  said  the  crafty  boy. 

The  articles  were  exchanged.  A  little  boy 
who  was  playing  in  a  wagon  near  the  boys,  as  if 
he  discovered  the  deception,  began  to  cry  out, 
—  "Burgundy  pitch!  Burgundy  pitch!"  His 
friendly  caution  was  not  understood.  The  large 
boy  walked  away,  well  pleased  with  his  bargain, 
and  the  little  one  broke  a  piece  for  each  of  his 
companions,  and  began  to  chew  his  own. 


CHILDREN   IN  TRADE. 


101 


"  It  is  bitter,"  said  he  ;  "I  don't  like  it ;  I  don't 
want  it."  He  turned  to  look  after  the  crafty  big 
bo/,  and  walked  on  in  silent  sadness. 

"  Are  you  sorry  you  traded  ?  "  said  one  of  his 
companions. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  I  have  lost  my  whistle,  and  got 
nothing  for  it." 

Another  large  boy  came  up  to  the  little  trader, 
and  asked  him  what  he  had. 

"  Pitch,"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ? " 

"  I  gave  a  bird-call  to  John  Blake  for  it." 

"  John  Blake  is  a  rascal  to  take  it  from  you. 
You  have  got  cheated,  Alfie.  Be  careful  how 
you  trade  with  large  boys,"  said  Alfred's  friend. 

"  I  hope  I  never  shall  trade  with  a  cheat 
again,"  said  Alfred. 

But  alas !  the  world  is  full  of  cheats.  There 
are  very  many  poor  ^.Ifreds  in  the  mercantile 
world,  and  crafty  John  Blake  watches  at  many  a 
corner,  to  entrap  the  unsuspecting.  When  a 
simple-minded  young  trader  offers  himself,  the 
deceiver  cries  —  "  Here,  young  man  ;  I  want  to 
see  you  a  minute."  The  witnesses  anxiously  cry 
out,  "  Burgundy  pitch  !  Burgundy  pitch  ! "  but  it 
avails  nothing;  for  a  novice  in  trade,  or  an  hon- 
est-hearted youth,  believes  all  as  innocent  as  him- 
self, and  he  makes  a  bargain  of  which  he  repents 


102 


CHILDREN  IN  TRADE. 


He  looks  round  for  the  old  merchant,  but  it  is  too 
late  ;  he  is  gone.  His  friends  tell  him,  what  he 
feels  keenly  enough  already,  that  he  has  been 
cheated  ;  and  he  hopes,  in  his  pure  heart,  that 
he  "  never  shall  trade  with  a  cheat  again." 

There  need  not  be — should  not  be,  more  of 
craft,  or  fraud,  or  deception,  or  double-dealing, 
in  the  commercial  world  than  in  any  other  de- 
partment of  business.  But  we  are  forced  to 
believe  that  a  lie  in  trade  is  not  considered 
a  departure  from  veracity,  and  that  many  re- 
gard it  as  absolutely  necessary  to  use  some  de- 
ceit. How  lamentable  that  such  a  state  of  things 
exists ! 

The  world  is  full  of  cheats.  But  where  do 
they  come  from  ?  Ohio  ?  Texas  ?  Delaware,  or 
Maine  ?  The  Irish  tell  us  in  what  county,  "  at 
home,"  their  deceitful  countrymen  live  ;  where 
the  bold-faced  liar  corner  from,  and  where  the 
licentious  live  ;  but  we  will  not  go  from  our  own 
state  to  accuse  the  citizens  of  another.  Let 
us  look  at  home,  and  cure  the  evil  here. 

Little  children  begin  very  early  to  deceive. 
They  make  bargains,  and  by  unfair  words,  and 
even  untrue  ones,  defraud  one  another.  The 
love  of  truth  is  not  deep  seated  in  their  hearts. 
The  conscience  is  not  kept  sensitive  to  the  least 
deviation  from  strictest  truth.    They  often  act  a 


CHILDREN  IN  TRADE. 


103 


lie,  and  think  it  no  harm.  Let  our  young  friends 
take  heed.  Truth  is  truth.  Less  than  the  whole 
truth  is  not  honest  before  God,  and  is  worth  but 
little.  Defile  not  your  pure  lips  and  hearts  by 
the  dishonest  word  or  dishonest  thought. 
9 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  REWARD. 


BY    JAMES  LUMBARD. 

There  is  a  glory  which  the  warrior  longs 
To  win,  as  to  the  battle-field  he  goes, 

Where  war's  red  banner  floats  above  the  throngs 
Who  meet,  and  perish  mid  convulsive  throes  ; 

That  glory  may  be  his  ;  but  it  will  die 

As  lightnings  fade  along  the  darkened  sky. 

There  is  a  fame  for  which  the  statesman's  soul 
Toils  earnestly  through  years  of  anxious  though* 

Until  at  length  away  the  shadows  roll, 

And  all  is  his  for  which  he  long  has  wrought  ; 

But  ah  !  how  soon  the  hearts  that  he  could  thrill, 

Are  gathered  to  the  charnel,  cold  and  chill  ! 

The  poet  sighs  for  honor  and  renown, 

And  fain  would  earn  a  never-dying  name  ; 

And  though  he  live  to  see  the  laurel  crown 

Placed  on  his  brow,  and  hear  the  trump  of  fame 

Yet,  when  a  few  short,  changeful  years  are  gone, 

Where  is  the  crown  that  once  so  brightly  shone? 

The  artist  has  such  bright  angelic  dreams, 
As  fill  his  spirit  with  a  strange  delight, 

And  years  of  toil  may  bring  a  few  faint  gleams 
Of  what  is  real  to  his  wistful  sight  ; 

But  all  the  brightness  of  his  dreams  shall  fade 

When  time  lias  mouldered  what  his  handshave  made 


THE   CHRISTIAN'S  REWARD. 


There  is  a  glory  that  shall  never  die, 
A  glory  that  is  not  of  mortal  birth  ; 

Its  fountain  is  beyond  the  azure  sky, 

And  yet  it  may  be  seen  by  those  on  earth  ; 

And  if  they  taste  it  while  sojourning  here, 

It  gives  them  glimpses  of  a  higher  sphere. 

It  is  for  this  the  Christian  nerves  his  heart, 
And  meets  with  calmness  every  ill  and  strife  ; 

It  is  for  this  he  nobly  acts  the  part 
Assigned  him  in  the  changing  scene  of  life. 

It  sheds  a  halo  round  him  while  he  lives, 

And  when  he  dies  a  holier  radiance  gives. 

And  when  admitted  to  that  sinless  sphere, 

Which  needeth  not  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 

He  sees  with  vision  all  undimmed  and  clear, 
And  finds  existence  has  but  just  begun  ; 

And  as  the  years  of  the  Eternal  move, 

He  grows  in  knowledge,  blessedness  and  love ! 


NATURE  HATH  VOICES,  AND 
SPEAKETH  WISDOM. 


REV.  L.  J.  FLETCHER. 

"  Come,  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Elwin  to  her  son, 
a  lad  of  twelve  summers,  whose  mind  had  already 
attained  a  singular  maturity,  beneath  the  genial 
influences  of  an  intelligent  and  devoted  mother's 
care  and  culture  ;  "  come  with  me,  and  let  us 
have  our  morning  walk,  and  read  our  morning 
lesson." 

Henry  needed  but  one  invitation,  and  was 
quickly  prepared  to  accompany  his  mother ;  for 
he  loved  the  sweet  breath  of  morning  upon  the 
hill-tops,  and  within  the  groves,  where  nature's 
songsters  breathed  their  early  orisons  of  praise 
to  God ;  and  his  soul  was  thirsting  for  new  and 
deeper  draughts  at  the  fountain  of  wisdom. 
Nothing  could  satisfy  that  thirst  like  a  morning 
ramble,  and  a  chat  with  nature,  as  he  used  to 
say,  could  he  but  have  his  mother  for  a  compan- 
ion and  interpreter. 

The  morning  was  beautiful,  and  hand  in  hand, 
talking  of  many  wonders  which  they  saw  around 


NATURE  HATH  VOICES. 


107 


them,  they  soon  were  standing  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  a  hill  which  they  often  visited,  watching 
the  rising  sun.  Its  prophecy  had  been  upon  the 
sky  since  first  they  started  from  their  home,  and 
now  its  orbed  face  of  golden  radiance  arose 
above  the  distant  mountains,  pouring  a  flood  of 
welcome  light  upon  the  joyful  world. 

"  Sit  down,  my  son,"  said  Mrs.  Elwin,  "  and 
let  us  listen  to  a  sermon  from  Nature's  greatest 
preacher.  Yonder  rising  orb  has  taught  me 
many  great  and  thrilling  lessons,  and  now,  as  he 
comes  forth  in  renewed  brightness  and  beauty, 
he  will  discourse  most  eloquently  of  truths  we 
all  should  learn." 

Henry  was  not  surprised  at  this  request,  for 
he  had  learned  to  talk  with  nature,  until  her 
voice  was  quite  familiar  to  his  ear ;  and  he  sat 
with  eager  joy  to  listen.  For  a  few  moments  all 
was  silent ;  but  when  the  mind  was  withdrawn 
from  all  things  else,  the  sun  addressed  them  thus  : 

"  Mortals,  my  ways  contemplate  !  I  am  an 
emblem  of  the  power  that  all  things  made ;  God 
is  my  Creator.  Like  as  his  love  distils  impar- 
tially on  all,  I  send  my  rays  of  light  and  heat 
upon  surrounding  worlds.  I  change  not.  I  ask 
not  if  those  who  bask  in  my  reviving  beams  are 
worthy  to  receive  them ;  but  upon  the  high  and 
low,  the  rich  and  poor,  the  bond  and  free,  the 


108 


NATURE   HATH  VOICES. 


evil  and  the  good,  I  shine  the  same.  The  world 
is  rolling  round  me,  and  every  day  some  parts  of 
it  are  lost  in  darkness,  and  men  do  say  of  me, 
'  The  sun  has  set ;'  but  set  I  never  do.  I  shine  the 
same  at  all  times  ;  and  the  cause  of  darkness  on 
the  earth  is  that  it  daily  turns  away  from  me. 

"  Learn,  mortals,  then,  this  lesson.  Be  constant 
in  the  work  by  you  to  be  performed,  as  I  in  mine. 
And  as  ye  see  one  sun  to  light  the  natural 
world,  remember  in  the  moral  there  is  the  same. 
Jesus  in  that,  as  I  in  this,  doth  shine.  His  rays 
of  gospel  truth  impartial  are  ;  and  if  men  live  in 
darkness,  'tis  but  because  they,  like  the  earth, 
have  turned  away  from  light. 

"  Then  turn  towards  the  Saviour  ;  welcome  the 
cheering  light  which  shines  from  him  upon  the 
world,  and  guided  by  its  rays,  pass  quietly  along 
the  sea  of  life  until  you  land  within  the  port  of 
everlasting  peace,  and  take  your  harps  of  gold  to 
sing  redemption's  song." 

Henry  sprang  upon  his  feet,  and  as  he  grasped 
his  mother's  hand  in  silence,  an  inexpressible 
joy  beamed  from  his  countenance,  and  his  heart 
was  full  of  the  most  gladsome  emotions. 

"  That,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  thoughtful 
silence,  "  that,  dear  mother,  was  the  most  en- 
chanting sermon  that  I  ever  heard.  How  full  of 
instruction  !  how  full  of  tenderness  and  love  ' 


NATURE  HATH  VOICES. 


109 


O,  I  could  sit  forever  and  listen  to  such  words  as 
those.  Let  us  wait  still  longer,  mother,  for 
should  he  speak  again,  I  would  not  fail  to  treas- 
ure up  the  wisdom  of  his  teachings." 

Mrs.  Elwin  had  listened  with  the  deepest  in- 
terest to  all  the  sun  had  spoken,  and  her  heart 
was  not  less  joyful  than  that  of  her  child ;  but 
she  knew  what  he  had  never  learned  to  realize, 
viz.,  that  a  short  sermon,  treasured  up  in  faithful 
remembrance,  was  of  more  value  than  longer 
sermons  half  forgotten ;  she  therefore  turned 
toward  their  home  again,  saying,  "  Remember, 
Henry,  what  you  have  already  heard,  and  con- 
sider it  faithfully  —  we  then  will  come  and  listen 
to  other  lessons  which  the  sun  is  daily  speaking. 
Meanwhile,  ponder  diligently  the  doctrine  of 
this  morning  lesson,  and  learn  therefrom  that 
God  is  not  a  partial  being,  but  loves  his  children 
all  alike,  and  blesses  all  with  equal  blessings." 

"  Mother,"  said  Henry,  as  they  walked  towards 
their  happy  home,  for  such  it  was  to  all  its  in- 
mates, "  is  not  the  moon  a  preacher  also  ?  Can 
we  not  learn  of  that,  some  lessons  of  instruc- 
tion ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Elwin;  "there  is  not  an 
object  in  nature  which  does  not  utter  words  of 
wisdom.  All  which  God  has  made  can  speak 
his  love,  and  praise  him  for  his  goodness.  But 


110 


NATURE   HATH  VOICES. 


the  moon  has  lessons  full  of  richest  interest  to  all 
who  give  her  audience." 

The  day  rolled  on,  and  when  the  sun  had  sunk 
to  rest  behind  the  western  hills,  and  the  full- 
orbed  moon  sent  forth  its  herald  rays  upon  the 
eastern  sky,  Henry  was  seen  hastening  with 
nimble  steps  to  gain  the  summit  of  the  hill  where, 
in  the  morning,  he  had  listened  to  the  sermon 
from  the  sun.  He  gained  his  station  just  in  time 
to  see  the  queen  of  night  arise  to  take  her  walk 
amid  the  constellations.  Never  before  had  she 
appeared  so  beautiful ;  and  as  he  sat  upon  the 
very  mound  where  in  the  morning  he  had  lis- 
tened to  the  king  of  day,  he  loved  not  less  the 
milder  beauties  of  reflected  light,  than  the  full 
blaze  of  radiant  glory. 

The  busy  world  was  hushed  to  silence  ;  the 
song  of  Nature's  warblers  had  ceased,  and  all 
around  there  reigned  a  sacred  stillness  which 
soothed  the  spirit  and  prepared  the  mind  to  talk 
with  nature. 

An  hour  rolled  past,  and  Henry  joined  his 
mother  in  the  parlor  to  rehearse  his  evening  les- 
son. It  was  the  first  he  had  sought  to  learn  from 
Nature,  without  his  mother's  aid,  and  she  had 
waited  anxiously  to  learn  of  his  success.  As  he 
entered,  she  saw  the  emotions  of  joy  that  filled 
his  heart,  beaming  forth  from  his  dark  blue  eyes. 


NATURE  HATH  VOICES. 


Ill 


and  noble  countenance,  and  she  knew  that  his 
communion  had  been  sweet  and  full  of  interest. 

"  Sit  down,  my  son,"  said  she,  "  and  let  me 
hear  the  lesson  which  the  moon  has  taught  you. 
What  said  the  moon  to  you  ?  Your  looks  declare 
her  sermon  welcome." 

"  It  was,  indeed,"  said  Henry,  "  although  she 
spake  not  all  to  me.  She  spake  to  all  who  love 
to  follow  Jesus." 

"  Can  you  remember  all  her  words  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Elwin. 

"  Yes,  all  of  them,"  replied  the  happy  boy ; 
"  nor  shall  I  ever  cease  to  keep  them  in  remem- 
brance.   This  was  her  language  : — 

"  '  I  shine,  't  is  true,  and  cheer  the  world  when 
the  bright  orb  of  day  has  disappeared  behind  the 
western  hills. 

" '  But  of  myself,  I  shine  not.  The  sun, 
although  not  seen  by  you,  still  throws  his  rays  on 
me,  and,  ever  faithful  to  my  trust,  I  lend  them  to 
the  earth. 

"  4  And  such  should  be  the  life  of  all  who  would 
follow  Jesus.  To  them  my  voice  is  speaking, 
and  those  who  hearken  shall  be  blessed  of  God 
and  man. 

"  'Shine  with  the  light  that  Christ  has  given, 
The  light  that  cometh  down  from  heaven  ; 
Reflect  the  gospel's  brightest  ray, 
And  drive  the  gloom  of  night  away.'  " 


NATURE   HATH  VOICES. 


"  This  lesson,"  said  Mrs.  Elwin,  whose  heart 
was  rejoiced  at  what  her  son  had  accomplished, 
"  this  lesson  proves  the  truth  of  what  I  have  so 
often  told  you.  The  world  is  full  of  poetry, 
which  lives  and  speaks  with  every  tongue  that 
God  has  given  nature  ;  and  those,  and  those  alone, 
who  learn  like  you  to  hear  and  understand  this 
language,  can  ever  claim,  by  right,  the  poet's 
name.  The  lesson  you  have  learned  is  great  and 
good.  You  have  said  well,  '  it  shall  not  be  forgot- 
ten.' Such  remembrances  are  ever  blessed  —  are 
ever  welcome  to  the  faithful  soul.  But  stop  not  by 
remembering  only  ;  this  lesson  should  be  prac- 
tised. Strive  to  live  near  to  Jesus,  and  allow  no 
intervening  object  to  obscure  the  light  you  bor- 
row from  his  gospel,  and  reflect  on  those  who 
walk  with  you  amid  the  lights  and  shades  of 
time, 

"  f  Shine  with  the  light  which  Christ  has  given.'  " 

Years  have  gone  past,  and  Henry  is  a  man. 
He  stands  each  Sabbath  at  the  sacred  altar,  and 
proclaims  the  lessons  he  has  learned  of  nature, 
and  from  the  written  word  of  God.  He  preaches 
God's  impartial  grace,  and  the  full  and  free  sal- 
vation which  is  revealed  in  the  light  of  Christ 
Jesus.  His  mother  is  now  quite  old  and  feeble ; 
but  when  she  walks  forth,  leaning  upon  the  arm 


NATURE   HATH  VOICES. 


113 


of  her  faithful  Henry,  as  she  calls  him,  the 
voices  of  nature  revive  her  drooping  powers,  and 
animate  her  spirit,  until  she  seems  to  cast  aside 
her  weight  of  years,  and  live  again  in  the  full 
strength  of  life's  maturity.  She  does  not  doubt 
but  when  her  body  dies,  her  spirit  will  commune 
with  nature  still,  and  know,  more  perfectly  than 
now,  of  all  the  wisdom  which  her  works  display. 

"  I  love  to  talk  with  nature,"  said  she  to  a 
young  friend  a  short  time  since,  "  for  then  I 
know  I  listen  to  the  voice  of  God.  This  voice  is 
truth.  Man  cannot  alter,  man  cannot  corrupt, 
it."  And  such,  also,  is  the  sentiment  which  her 
son  has  learned  to  cherish,  and  which  he  gladly 
proclaims  to  the  world. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  while  supporting  her  in 
the  garden  walks,  and  listening  to  the  language 
of  the  flowers,  "  when  you  have  passed  away, 
and  I  shall  walk  alone  to  talk  with  nature,  I  shall 
believe  your  spirit  near  me  still." 

"  You  may,"  replied  the  aged  mother,  "  you 
may  believe  me  with  you  always.  As  you  walk 
among  these  flowers,  or  in  the  open  fields,  or 
climb  the  mountain  heights,  I  shall  be  with  you, 
searching  still  for  higher  truth,  and  learning  still 
diviner  lessons  of  the  love  of  God." 

Let  those  who  read  this  story  know  that  na- 
ture's voices  utter  their  instruction  to  the  under- 


114 


NATURE  HATH  VOICES. 


standing  and  spirit  of  man.  The  low,  the  grov- 
elling, the  sensual,  do  not  hear  them.  He  who 
would  enjoy  the  wisdom  they  impart,  must  purify 
his  thoughts,  and  lift  his  soul  above  the  dust  of 
sensual  things. 


NAPOLEON. 


A  DIALOGUE. 

BY  REV.  JOHN   G.  ADAMS. 

Matthew.  Aha !  George,  a  book  in  hand  again  ? 
Well,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  getting  to  be  quite 
a  reader  in  these  days.  What  now  so  inter- 
esting ? 

George.  0,  a  grand  book,  Matthew ;  a  grand 
book  !  I  have  been  reading  till  my  eyes  and 
head  ache  ;  but  I  hardly  knew  where  to  leave  off. 

M.  Well  done  !  what  is  it  ? 

G.  It  is  a  book  entitled  "  Bonaparte  and  his 
Marshals."  It  is  an  American  book.  I  have 
often  seen  it  advertised,  and  heard  about  it;  so  I 
thought  I  would  get  it  and  read  it  for  myself. 
And  it 's  a  grand  thing,  I  do  assure  you. 

M.  A  grand  thing,  indeed!  Well,  there  is 
where  you  and  I  differ.  I  do  not  wonder  you 
have  the  eyes-ache,  and  the  head-ache,  George. 
I  should  think  you  might  have  the  heart-ache,  too. 

G.  Really,  Matthew,  what  are  you  talking 
about,  so  Quakerish  and  solemn  ?  Don't  you 
10 


116 


NAPOLEON. 


think  the  book  an  interesting  one  ?  for  you 
seem  to  speak  as  though  you  knew  something 
about  it. 

M.  I  do  know  something  of  it,  George  ;  and 
I  mast  again  say  that  I  do  not  agree  with  you 
in  your  estimation  of  the  work. 

G.  Why,  pray  ?  It  is  one  of  the  most  popular 
works  of  the  day.  I  heard  Lawyer  Jones  prais- 
ing it  the  other  day;  and  Captain  Spear's  son 
James,  in  our  house  a  few  evenings  ago,  said  it 
was  one  of  the  best  things  to  stir  up  the  military 
spirit  in  a  fellow  that  he  knew  of. 

M.  You  did  ?  Well,  James  Spear's  reason  for 
calling  it  best,  is  my  reason  for  calling  it  worst. 
I  have  just  about  the  smallest  opinion  of  this 
military  spirit. 

G.  Why  Matthew,  you  don't  talk  like  most 
folks.  You  never  would  make  a  soldier.  Don't 
you  think  Bonaparte  a  noble  man  ? 

M.  What  do  you  mean  by  noble  ? 

G.  Mean  ?  why,  I  mean  a  man  who  was 
great  like  him  ;  who  could  lay  such  plans  — 
bring  together  and  keep  together  such  multitudes 
of  men,  and  fight  such  battles,  and  get  such  vic- 
tories as  he  did. 

M.  This  is  your  idea  of  nobleness,  is  it  ? 
Well,  I  have  a  different  one.  I  have  not  thought 
of  questioning  the  great  intellect  of  Napoleon ; 


NAPOLEON. 


117 


but  as  to  his  nobleness,  I  think  he  was  too  much 
of  a  man-butcher  to  be  called  noble.  So  I  shall 
be  unpopular  enough  to  say  he  was  not  noble. 
You  are  welcome  to  make  it  out  that  he  was,  if 
you  can. 

G.  You  seem  to  talk  very  confidently. 
What  is  your  great  objection  to  the  man  ? 

M.  Why,  that  he  gloried  in  war  as  he  did ; 
that  he  caused  so  much  misery  among  men  ;  that 
he  made  such  waste  of  human  property  and 
human  life.  Only  think  of  the  numbers  slain  in 
his  chief  battles  !  Six  millions  of  human  beings  ! 
to  say  nothing  of  other  evils,  equal,  if  possible, 
to  the  loss  of  life  which  he  caused  during  his 
mad  career.  I  do  not  think  much  of  such  no- 
bleness. I  think  we  have  called  our  great  war- 
riors noble  men  long  enough.  It  is  time  we 
were  learning  better  fashions.  I  think  there  are 
nobler  men  than  warriors  ever  were  or  ever 
can  be. 

G.  Matthew,  don't  you  call  Washington  a 
noble  man  ? 

M.  Surely,  George ;  but  do  not,  I  pray  you, 
name  Washington  in  the  same  hour  with  Bona- 
parte, unless  you  mean  to  compare  their  charac- 
ters. We  do  not  most  admire  Washington  because 
he  was  a  great  warrior.  He  had  virtues  which 
Napoleon  had  not ;  and  besides,  he  has  given  us 


IIS 


NAPOLEON. 


his  testimony  against  war,  as  Napoleon  never 
did.  He  loved  peace  far  better  than  war.  Na- 
poleon loved  war  better  than  peace.  So  his  life 
says.  And  this  is  one  great  difference  in  the 
men.  Napoleon  himself  said,  once,  to  an  Amer- 
ican, "  The  name  of  your  Washington  will  live 
when  mine  shall  be  lost."  Washington  was  a 
noble  man ;  but  his  being  a  general  did  not 
make  him  so. 

G.  But  do  you  not  denounce  all  warriors  ? 

M.  I  denounce  all  war,  and  that  is  enough. 
And  when  you  talk  about  a  noble  man,  whose 
whole  life  has  been  one  great  battle  with  his 
race,  I  tell  you  I  don't  think  much  of  his  noble- 
ness. Folks  may  write  books  about  him,  and 
you  may  admire  them  ;  I  cannot. 

G.  Well,  Matthew,  tell  us  what  your  idea  of 
a  noble  man  is. 

M.  Certainly  I  will.  A  noble  man  is  one  who 
uses  the  intellect  and  soul  God  has  given  him  in 
doing  good  to  his  fellow-men ;  in  leading  them 
to  love  and  aid,  and  not  to  hate  and  destroy,  one 
another  ;  who  keeps  the  truth  in  mind,  that  we 
have  all  one  Father,  and  that  we  should  bless 
and  curse  not,  forgive  rather  than  be  avenged, 
love  even  our  enemies,  and  strive  for  the  things 
that  make  for  peace  ;  who  would  render  earth  a 
heaven  instead  of  a  field  of  blood,  and  suffering 


NAPOLEON. 


119 


and  desolation.  This  is  one  idea  I  have  of  a  no- 
ble man.  If  Bonaparte  had  gone  to  work  with  his 
great  intellect  to  raise  the  means  for  relieving  the 
wants  of  the  people  of  Europe  that  he  raised  to 
destroy  them,  we  might  have  had  a  better  history 
of  his  nobleness.    Don't  you  think  so,  George  ? 

G.  Well,  Matthew,  there  is  something,  I  con- 
fess, in  this  view  of  the  matter  ;  but  then,  you 
know,  men  do  not  think  so.  We  have  always 
had  war  in  the  world,  and  I  suppose  we  shall 
have  more  of  it,  till  men  grow  better ;  and  so 
we  must  have  warriors.  When  men  all  become 
Christians  there  will  be  no  more  fighting. 

M.  This  is  a  precious  confession,  George. 
When  men  all  become  Christians  !  Now  I  wish 
just  to  ask  you  what  is  to  make  them  Christians; 
preaching  to  them  that  they  may  practise  war 
till  the  millennium  comes ;  or  that  war  is  a  sin 
against  God  and  man,  and  the  millennium  never 
will  come  till  men  stop  war  —  stop  it  in  their 
dispositions,  in  their  talk,  in  their  actions  ?  It  is 
a  strange  idea  that  fire  will  put  out  fire  —  that 
we  may  keep  on  encouraging  and  practising 
war  till  men  get  convinced  it  is  wrong.  If  they 
would  give  as  much  attention  to  their  Bible  as 
you  have  to  "  Napoleon  and  his  Marshals,"  they 
might  be  convinced  now  that  war  is  a  sin  and  an 
10* 


120 


NAPOLEON. 


abomination,  and  that  so  long  as  men  use  the 
sword,  just  so  long  will  they  be  destroyed  by  it. 

G.  We  will  talk  again  on  this  subject,  Matthew. 

M.  I  hope  so,  George  ;  and  before  we  part, 
let  me  say  one  word.  You  have  spoken  of  Na- 
poleon's nobleness.  Compare  his  disposition  and 
life  with  the  disposition  and  life  of  the  great 
Master  of  Christians  ;  and  tell  me,  when  next  we 
meet,  which  you  think  had  the  true  nobleness 
in  him.  They  are  opposites.  If  one  was  no- 
ble, the  other  was  not.  Which  was  ?  That  is 
the  question. 


OUR  BIBLES. 


BY  MRS.  M.  H.  ADAMS. 


Usually  there  are  more  persons  than  Bibles 
in  a  family  ;  but  we  are  more  blessed  at  this 
home,  and  have  more  Bibles  than  people,  for 
there  are  but  three  of  us  and  we  have  eight  copies 
of  the  sacred  Scriptures  in  the  house.  Merely 
possessing  a  Bible,  however,  is  not  a  sure  indica- 
tion of  true  piety,  and  we  who  own  many  and 
costly  ones,  may  not  possess  as  much  religious 
feeling  as  the  poor  man  who  owns  but  the  smoked 
and  soiled  fragment  of  an  old-fashioned  one,  that 
his  father  and  grandfather  used  before  him. 
Neither  can  you  safely  judge  by  our  having  so 
many,  whether  or  not  we  read  more,  or  obey  the 
precepts  of  the  Bible  better,  than  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  poor  who  have  but  a  few  scat 
tered  leaves  of  an  old  copy  to  divide  among 
them.  No,  my  young  friends,  you  cannot  tell 
who  reads  the  Bible  by  knowing  who  has  one  in 
the  house ;  or  who  is  a  truly  God-like  person,  by 
knowing  who  owns  one ;  for  many  Bibles  lie 


122 


OUR  BIBLES. 


unopened  on  the  table  from  day  to  day,  and 
month  to  month,  where  many  persons  go  in  and 
out ;  and  many  fathers  and  mothers,  sons  and 
daughters,  read  their  pages  without  thinking  that 
the  precepts  thereat?  written,  were  so  written  for 
their  instruction  in  goodness,  that  they  might 
read  and  go  forth  Jo  practise.  But  I  will  tell  you 
of  our  Bibles,  ana  our  lives  will  tell  you  what 
use  we  make  of  them. 

First,  th^n,  there  is  the  little  one,  the  parting 
gift  of  a  fauhful  mid-servant,  to  the  baby,  when 
she  gave  him  her  last  kiss.  "  I  have  loved  it,'' 
said  she,  "and  learned  it  too  ;  I  hope  he  will  do 
the  same  and  practise  what  he  learns."  Five 
years  have  passed  pway,  and  the  boy  is  no  longer 
a  baby.  These  years  have  borne  the  giver  to  a 
home  in  the  distant  West,  but  with  us  she  has 
left  a  sacred  memento ;  Exnd  shouM  these  words 
meet  her  eye.  she  will  know  tnat  she  is  still 
remembered  at  our  fireside,  and  her  gift  cherished 
by  her  little  friend. 

And  we  have  one  which  a  younger  sister  used 
as  a  school-book.  It  bears  her  name  in  the  stiff 
and  precise  hand-writing  of  an  old  and  respected 
teacher.  I  can  tell  little  of  its  history,  for  we 
were  pupils  in  separate  schools.  I  know,  how- 
ever, that  she  has  been  a  learner  of  the  Bible,  and 
hope  that  it  was  not  used  as  a  school-book  alone, 


OUR  BIBLES. 


123 


but  that  she  regards  it  in  later  years  as  her  text- 
book, on  which  she  will  found  many  sermons  of 
her  life,  her  guide-book  to  the  paths  of  peace  and 
holiness,  to  the  river  of  life,  to  the  covert  from 
the  tempest,  to  the  light  that  gleams  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 

We  have  the  Bible  of  my  oldest  brother ;  a 
gift  from  his  pious  grandmother  in  the  year  1816, 
It  was  his  school-book  then,  and  after  he  became 
a  man  he  laid  it  not  aside.  It  had  its  place  in 
his  trunk  when  he  sojourned  in  the  stranger's 
home,  and  was  read  when  he  remembered  the 
injunction  of  his  mother,  "  William,  read  your 
Bible."  When  his  days  of  absence  from  the 
homestead  were  over,  and  he  came  back  to  leave 
us  no  more,  it  had  its  place  in  his  chamber, 
Early  and  late  have  I  seen  him  studying  its 
pages,  and  his  life  told  how  deeply  its  precepts 
were  implanted  in  his  heart.  He  had  no  other 
gods  but  God,  bore  no  false  witness,  coveted  no 
man's  goods,  gave  liberally  to  the  poor.  But  he 
is  dead — and  he  died  in  the  fulness  of  joy 
which  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  imparts, 
and  rested  in  its  promises  of  life  to  all. 

Next,  I  find  one  owned  by  a  brother-in-law, 
much  worn  and  defaced.  He  is  not  as  old  as  the 
appearance  of  his  Bible  might  indicate.  But  it 
has  been  twice  across  the  mighty  deep,  besides 


124 


OUR  BIBLES. 


being  used  as  a  school-book.  It  bears  numerous 
inscriptions  of  idle  boys  ;  the  name  of  one,  and 
the  marks  of  many.  This  book  was  the  com- 
panion of  my  brother  when  he  left  his  native 
land  for  a  home  in  a  foreign  clime,  an  inexperi- 
enced, unprotected  youth,  to  start  in  the  business 
of  life  alone.  There,  for  eleven  years,  this  book 
remained  his  companion  ;  a  talisman  of  good,  in 
a  land  where  the  true  God  is  ignorantly  wor- 
shipped by  the  zealous  Catholic ;  where  Christian- 
ity has  but  a  name.  It  has  come  back  with  him 
to  this  happier  land,  where  God  is  honored,  and 
his  truth  spread  wide  among  the  people.  May 
its  truths,  which  have  remained  unaltered 
through  all  the  changes  of  his  early  life,  be  bis 
counsel  in  business,  his  delight  in  his  home,  his 
blessing  through  the  remainder  of  his  life,  his 
hope  and  strength  in  death  ! 

The  fifth  one  has  been  the  companion,  the 
friend,  the  study  of  my  husband  for  nearly 
twenty  years  ;  a  little  book,  but  full  of  mighty 
truths  ;  a  plain  one,  but  through  its  teachings  he 
has  beheld  beauty  and  glory  that  exceed  what 
earth  can  give.  He  sought  truth  on  its  pages, 
and  God  blessed  him  with  knowledge.  It  was 
his  guide  and  instructor  in  his  preparations  for 
the  ministry,  has  furnished  him  with  texts  and 
thought*  since  he  entered  it.  When  life  has 
seemed  dark,  he  has  found  light  here ;  when 


OUR  BIBLES. 


125 


perplexities  surrounded  him,  he  has  found  by  his 
Bible  the  true  path ;  when  friends  have  proved 
false,  its  teachings  have  brought  peace  and  com- 
fort ;  and  when  life  itself  shall  close  upon  him, 
may  its  promises  and  doctrines  bring  "joy  un- 
speakable and  full  of  glory  ! " 

A  sixth  one  is  the  "  Family  Bible,  the  dear 
blessed  Bible,"  indeed.  It  was  my  mother's,  —  it 
was  my  father's ;  and  it  folds  within  its  leaves 
the  names  of  all  my  brothers  and  sisters.  We 
were  a  happy  family  when,  with  this  same  Bible 
upon  her  lap,  my  gentle  mother  called  us  round 
her  on  each  returning  Sabbath  eve,  and  taught 
us  from  its  sacred  pages.  My  father  would  sit 
in  silent  joy  by  the  side  of  his  faithful  companion, 
with  ten  happy  children  before  him,  to  hear  our 
Scripture  lessons  recited,  prompting  when  we 
hesitated,  encouraging  when  we  failed.  But  my 
father's  voice  can  no  longer  prompt,  my  blessed 
mother  no  longer  teach  us.  They  are  gone,  and 
two  sons  and  two  daughters  are  gone  too. 

 —"This  leather-bound  Bible, — 

It  taught  them  to  live,  yea,  it  taught  them  to  die  ; 
I  stood  by  their  death-bed  when  dim  grew  the  eye, 
And  the  pulse  fluttered  faint,  yet,  oh,  how  serene 
They  passed  through  the  closing  of  life's  busy  scene  ! 
Like  the  angels  they  mounted  in  spirit  on  high, 
This  leather-bound  Bible  well  taught  them  to  die." 


126 


OUR  BIBLES. 


But  here  are  four  brothers  and  four  sisters  left, 
for  we  were  twelve  in  all,  and  here  is  the  old 
Bible,  with  its  cover  of  plaid  and  its  precepts 
more  precious  than  gold,  with  the  self-same  truths 
that  our  parents  taught,  undecayed,  unchanged. 
The  sweet  voice  of  my  angel  mother  still  seems 
to  say,  "  Son,  daughter,  take  up  the  lesson  where 
I  laid  it  down,  and  teach  your  children  as  I  taught 
you.  Bind  the  truths  to  your  hearts  forever. 
They  are  eternal !  " 

The  seventh  is  my  own  precious  Bible,  the 
gift  of  my  oldest  sister  in  1830.  It  is  a  London 
edition  of  the  Polyglot  Bible.  Rich,  indeed,  are 
the  treasures  it  contains,  and  they  are  mine  ;  they 
may  be  thine,  reader.  May  the  instructions  of 
my  mother,  the  example  of  my  sister,  and  the 
earnest  solicitations  of  the  pastor  of  my  youth 
be  not  lost  upon  me.  May  they  still  lead  me  to 
study  its  pages  and  love  its  teachings.  Its  doc- 
trines have  given  consolation  and  support  in  many 
severe  trials  of  life.  They  have  spoken  peace 
to  my  soul  when  I  mourned  the  departed  from 
the  family  circle,  and  cares  accumulated  on  my 
young  hands  in  my  early  home,  and  when,  by 
the  will  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  a  precious  babe 
was  borne  away  from  my  own  little  family  ;  when 
I  myself  lay  at  the  brink  of  the  grave,  too  weak 
to  read,  and  too  feeble  to  hear  its  truths  uttered  j 


OUR  BIBLES. 


127 


then  was  my  spirit  calm  and  happy  in  the  belief 
of  them.  God  be  praised  !  And  thou,  precious 
book,  still  bless,  instruct  and  guide  me. 

"  When  the  morning  is  here,  with  its  dew  and  its  light, 
When  the  star  sparkles  first  in  the  blue  arch  of  night, 
I  will  turn  to  these  leaves,  and  learn  how  to  forgive 
Each  error  in  those  who  around  me  may  live, 
And  pray  that  when  death  stills  the  throb  of  my  heart, 
I  may  smiling  look  upward,  and  sweetly  depart." 

Lastly,  I  would  mention  what  may  indeed  be 
called  the  book  of  books,  the  Bible  of  Bibles ;  I 
mean  the  large  edition  called  Harper's  Pictorial 
Bible.  It  is  the  property  of  my  husband.  It 
was  a  gift  from  his  people,  a  token  of  the  esteem 
they  cherish  for  him  for  his  fidelity  as  a  minis- 
ter, and  his  cordial  attentions  during  his  resi- 
dence with  them  as  a  pastor.  He  will  love  it  as 
such  ;  and  his  family  will  respect  and  remember 
to  bless  the  warm  hearts  and  generous  hands 
who  jointly  presented  it.  I  cannot  tell  you  all 
the  emotions  that  fill  my  soul  when  I  open  that 
splendid  book.  There  are  beauty  and  taste  dis- 
played without,  but  within  its  covers  I  know 
there  are  holiest  truths  and  loveliest  teachings. 
There  are  some  most  elegant  engravings  in  it ; 
'but  when  I  open  it,  I  pray  that  the  precepts  3f 
those  sacred  writers  may  be  as  beautifully  en- 
11 


128 


OUR  BIBLES. 


graven  on  the  heart  of  my  innocent  boy,  who 
loves  to  gaze  upon  them,  indelible  impressions 
of  all  that  is  good  and  holy.  The  people  of  his 
charge  sent  many  good  wishes  and  prayers  with 
it  to  him  whom  they  would  thus  honor  ;  and 
they  have  sent  also  a  silent  admonition  that  he 
and  his  forget  not  to  love  the  Holy  Bible,  and  see 
that  its  inspired  teachings  be  ever  and  purely 
taught  at  the  family  altar,  in  the  public  sanctuary, 
in  the  visits  of  the  pastor  among  his  people,  and 
in  his  walk  before  the  world. 

And  think  you  I  remember  only  the  fathers 
and  mothers  when  I  look  into  it  ?  I  can  assure 
you  I  remember  most  affectionately  the  children. 
When  I  turn  over  its  leaves,  and  see  the  pictures 
of  little  children  receiving  instruction  from  pious 
parents ;  of  little  girls  kneeling  and  being  taught 
to  pray ;  of  little  boys  being  warned  against 
temptation  and  sin  by  gray-haired  sires  ;  and  read 
that  the  commands  of  God  should  be  talked  of 
when  we  sit  in  the  house,  or  walk  by  the  way,  at 
night  and  in  the  morning,  —  it  is  then  I  think  of 
Mary  and  Catharine,  Josephine  and  Harriet,  of 
Willie  and  James,  of  Charles  and  Samuel,  and 
many  others  of  my  little  friends.  And  while  I 
think,  I  hope  they  hear  these  commands  day  by 
day,  and  remember  them  on  their  pillows,  and 
practise  them  in  all  their  sports  and  visitings 


/ 


OUR  BIBLES.  129 

together.  I  pray  that  all  the  blessing  which  God 
sends  upon  truly  good  children,  may  rest  upon 
these  dear  ones  whom  my  soul  so  tenderly 
loves. 

As  I  pass  along,  I  behold  pictures  of  young 
men  bowing  before  the  Lord,  or  humbly  sitting 
at  the  feet  of  venerable  fathers  for  instruction,  or 
discharging  the  duties  of  their  religion  ;  I  see 
young  maidens,  fair  and  beautiful,  bearing  the 
sin-offering  and  burnt-offering,  or  gathered  before 
the  public  teacher  of  holy  things,  or  listening  to 
the  words  of  pious  matrons,  and  cheerfully  yield- 
ing, for  the  honor  and  service  of  God,  their  mir- 
rors, their  bracelets,  their  rings,  and  all  their 
golden  ornaments,  and  willingly  "  humbling 
themselves  in  the  sight  of  God,  that  they  may 
be  lifted  up  of  him."  Then  it  is  I  think  of  the 
young  men  and  women  who  have  risen  up  from 
children,  during  the  ministry  of  this  pastor  whom 
the  parents  have  thus  honored,  and  most  ear- 
nestly do  I  desire  that  Zion  may  be  strengthened 
and  built  up  in  our  goodly  town  by  many  humble 
Christians  from  among  them  —  that  they  may 
be  fully  instructed  in  Scripture  knowledge,  and 
ready  to  stand  before  the  Lord,  when  their 
fathers  and  mothers  leave  the  places  they  now 
occupy. 

These,  my  dear  readers,  are  our  Bibles,  and 


130 


OUR  BIBLES. 


some  of  the  pleasant  thoughts  that  possess  my 
soul  when  I  see  and  read  them.  And  since 
there  are  many  young  people  whom  I  love,  not 
particularly  referred  to  here,  let  me  say  that  you 
can  give  to  your  God  no  greater  honor,  to  your 
Saviour  no  stronger  proof  of  discipleship,  to  our 
world  no  better  service,  to  yourselves  no  purer 
pleasure,  than  by  becoming  devoted  students  of 
the  Holy  Bible,  and  obedient  followers  of  its 
teachings. 

We  marvel  that  old  men  and  women  can  repeat 
so  much  of  the  Bible.  They  began  in  youth, 
and  have  made  it  their  study  through  life,  —  a 
verse  or  a  chapter,  a  sentiment  or  a  sermon,  at  a 
time ;  for  a  moment  in  one  day,  an  hour  in  the 
next,  a  whole  evening  at  another  time,  —  with 
prayerful  attention,  and  a  real  desire  for  the  kind 
of  knowledge  which  it  imparts.  Thus  have  our 
old  people  become  filled  with  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  thus  only  can  our  young  people 
obtain  it.  The  Bible  is  not  a  narrative,  it  is  not  a 
history,  or  a  biography,  or  a  poem,  or  a  sermon, 
a  series  of  prophecies,  or  a  book  of  laws ;  but  a 
grand  collection  of  all  these  different  kinds  of 
writing,  sacredly  uttered,  sacredly  preserved,  and 
worthy  to  be  made  the  study  of  one's  life. 


POOL     OF  SILOAM 


THE  POOL  OF  SILOAM. 


Who,  that  has  become  familiarly  acquainted 
with  Scripture  history,  has  not  been  interested 
in  what  he  has  learned  of  this  remarkable  place  ? 
It  has  been  sought  by  the  pilgrim,  noted  by  the 
traveller,  sung  by  the  bard  of  holy  inspiration. 
The  fountain  bearing  this  name  came  out  under 
the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  on  the  east,  between  the 
city  and  the  brook  Kidron.  It  is  supposed  to  be 
mentioned  in  Josh.  xv.  7  ;  xviii.  16 ;  2  Sam. 
xvii.  17 ;  1  Kings  i.  9.  Josephus,  in  his  history 
of  the  Jews,  speaks  of  the  waters  of  Siloam. 
There  was  a  custom  of  drawing  water  from  the 
fountain  of  Siloam,  and  pouring  it  out  before  the 
Lord,  in  the  temple,  at  the  time  of  evening  sac- 
rifice. There  is  some  allusion  to  this  in  John 
vii.  37. 

The  following  description  of  the  fountain  is 
from  the  journal  of  Messrs.  Fisk  and  King,  of 
date  April  28,  1823.  "  Near  the  south-east  cor- 
ner of  the  city,  [Jerusalem,]  at  the  foot  of  Zion 
and  Moriah,is  the  Pool  of  Si)oam,  (SeeNeh.iii. 
15,)  whose  waters  flow  with  gentle  murmur  from 
under  the  holy  mountain  of  Zion,  or  rather  from 
"  11* 


134 


POOL  OF  SILOAM. 


under  Ophel,  having  Zion  on  the  west,  and 
Moriah  on  the  north.  The  very  fountain  issues 
from  a  rock,  twenty  or  thirty  feet  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground,  to  which  we  descended  by 
two  flights  of  steps.  Here  it  flows  out  without 
a  single  murmur,  and  appears  clear  as  crystal. 
From  this  place  it  winds  its  way  several  rods  un- 
der the  mountain,  then  makes  its  appearance 
with  gentle  gurgling,  and  forming  a  beautiful  rill, 
takes  its  way  down  into  the  valley  towards  the 
south-east.  We  drank  of  the  water  both  at  the 
fountain  and  from  the  stream,  and  found  it  soft,  of 
a  sweetish  taste,  and  pleasant.  It  was  to  this 
fountain  that  the  blind  man  went,  and  washed, 
and  came  seeing.    John  ix.  7-11." 

Stephens,  in  his  "  Incidents  of  Travel,"  writes 
of  visiting  this  place.  He  says,  "Hundreds  of 
pilgrims  were  stretched  on  its  bank ;  and  a  little 
above  is  the  sacred  pool  issuing  from  the  rock, 
enclosed  by  stone  walls,  with  a  descent  of  two 
flights  of  steps."  Bartlett,  a  still  more  recent 
traveller,  represents  the  steps  as  being  worn,  by 
the  feet  of  the  numerous  visiters  there,  to  the 
smoothness  of  polished  marble. 


MY  MOTHER'S  VOICE. 


BY  JONES  VERY. 

My  mother's  voice  !  I  hear  it  now  — 
I  feel  her  hand  upon  my  brow, 

As  when,  in  heartfelt  joy, 
She  raised  her  evening  hymn  of  praise. 
And  called  down  blessings  on  the  days 

Of  her  loved  boy. 

My  mother's  voice  !   I  hear  it  now  — 
Her  hand  is  on  my  burning  brow, 

As  in  that  early  hour, 
When  fever  throbbed  through  all  my  veins. 
And  that  kind  hand  first  soothed  my  pains, 

With  healing  power. 

My  mother's  voice  !  It  sounds  as  when 
She  read  to  me  of  holy  men, 

The  patriarchs  of  old  ; 
And  gazing  downward  on  my  face, 
She  seemed  each  infant  thought  to  trace, 

My  young  eyes  told. 

It  comes  —  when  thoughts  unhallowed  throng. 
Woven  in  sweet  deceptive  song  — 
And  whispers  round  my  heart, 


136 


MY  MOTHER'S  VOICE. 


As  when  at  eve  it  rose  on  high, 
I  hear,  and  think  that  she  is  nigh, 
And  they  depart. 

Though  round  my  heart  all,  all  heside  — 
The  voice  of  friendship,  love  —  had  died  ; 

That  voice  would  linger  there, 
As  when,  soft-pillowed  on  her  breast, 
Its  tones  first  lulled  my  infant  rest, 

Or  rose  in  prayer. 


SATURDAY  AFTERNOON. 


BY  MRS.  N.  T.  MUNROE. 

It  is  Saturday  afternoon.  There  has  been  a 
shower,  and  the  bright  rain-drops  still  glisten 
upon  the  grass,  and  a  few  clouds  still  lie  around 
the  west,  while  the  rest  of  the  sky  is  of  the  deep- 
est blue.  And  the  water  too  is  blue,  stretching 
far  away  in  the  distance ;  and  blue,  too,  are  the 
far  off  hills,  while  those  rising  nearer,  upon 
which  a  flood  of  sunlight  is  falling,  are  of  the 
bright,  mossy  green  of  the  young  spring  time. 

Silent,  and  ever  pointing  upward,  rise  the  church 
spires,  and  villages  are  clustered  around,  and 
quiet  homes  look  out  from  the  green  trees  ;  pleas- 
ant dwellings  lay  bathed  in  the  gorgeous  sunlight, 
and  thousands  and  thousands  of  beating  hearts 
and  busy  brains  find  a  home  in  the  places  that 
lie  so  quietly  and  pleasantly  stretched  before  us. 

There  is  a  confused  noise  and  bustle  borne  to 
our  ears.  This  is  a  working  world,  and  this  is 
one  of  its  working  days.  There  is  the  rattling 
of  heavy  wheels,  the  voices  of  impatient  drivers, 


138 


SATURDAY  AFTERNOON. 


the  shouts  of  merry  boys,  the  blacksmith  at  his 
forge,  the  hum  of  machinery,  and  blended  with 
these,  the  confused  and  indistinct  noises  from  the 
neighboring  city,  all  rising  to  our  ears,  and  seem- 
ing to  say  that  "this  is  Saturday  afternoon,  and 
the  great  world  has  a  deal  to  do  ere  the  day  of 
rest  comes." 

And,  chiming  in  with  these  harsh,  discordant 
sounds,  like  the  soft  voice  of  childhood,  and  the 
din  of  wrangling  and  confusion,'  come  the  sweet 
notes  of  the  birds,  as  they  sit  in  their  leafy 
homes,  and  sing  on  while  all  the  noise  and  bustle 
pass  unheeded.  Short,  soft,  and  broken,  like  the 
tones  of  infancy,  comes  their  music  to  our  ears, 
and  cheerfully  they  sing,  and  the  green  leaves 
rustle,  and  chime  in  with  their  melody,  and  their 
bright  wings  glance  from  bough  to  bough.  The 
light  breeze  shakes  a  flood  of  snowy  blossoms 
from  the  trees,  and  the  children  clap  their  hands 
in  glee,  and  their  glad  laugh  blends  harmoniously 
with  the  bird  notes  ;  for  it  is  Saturday  afternoon, 
and  whole  troops  are  at  liberty,  and  they  go  run- 
ing  over  the  green  fields  ;  they  pluck  the  butter- 
cups and  the  violet,  and  make  curls  of  the  long 
stems  of  the  dandelions,  and  run  about  till  their 
little  feet  are  weary,  and  a  Saturday's  sun  sets 
upon  many  a  little  one,  tired  even  of  play. 

A  blessed  time  to  our  young  hearts  was  Sat- 


SATURDAY    AFTERNOON.  139 

urday  afternoon,  especially  in  the  summer  time. 
Out  in  the  meadows  hunting  strawberries  and 
wild  flowers,  over  the  hills  where  the  honey- 
suckles grew,  but  stepping  carefully,  and  looking 
around,  lest  we  should  chance  to  tread  upon  a 
snake,  — out  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  with 
their  leafy  rustling  in  our  ears,  making  our 
young  hearts  dreamy  and  quiet,  —  all  these 
pleasant  things  come  rushing  upon  us  as  we  think 
of  Saturday  afternoon.  And  oh  !  how  tired  we 
were  when  darkness  fell  upon  the  earth,  and  the 
birds  sung  their  last  twittering  song,  and  the  stars 
came  out  in  the  clear  summer  sky.  Yet  tired  as 
we  were,  how  reluctantly  still  did  we  leave  the 
freedom  and  freshness  of  the  open  air,  for  our 
homes  ! 

And  then  the  morrow  was  the  Sabbath.  No 
other  morning  was  like  that  morning;  it  had  its 
own  peculiar  stillness  and  joy.  The  earth  was 
dressed  in  Sunday  garb.  The  very  light  and 
air  were  different  from  that  of  yesterday,  and  as 
we  took  our  books  and  prepared  for  our  walk  to 
the  Sabbath  school,  we,  too,  seemed  different 
beings  from  those  who  yesterday  were  shouting 
and  sporting  in  wild  and  untamed  mirthfulness 
and  glee.  Yet,  just  as  happy  were  we,  only 
more  quiet  and  subdued,  for  we  looked  forward 
to  the  pleasant  Sabbath  school  with  an  eagerness 


140 


SATURDAY  AFTERNOON. 


equal  even  to  that  of  the  long-wish  ed-for  Satur- 
day afternoon.  And  ever  when  we  see  the  hap- 
py children  roaming  over  the  hills,  ever  when 
we  hear  their  merry  shouts  and  boisterous  glee, 
and  think  what  a  joy  to  them  is  the  free  air,  the 
green  earth  and  the  sunshine,  we  say,  blessed  is 
Saturday  afternoon  !  And  when  the  quiet,  holy 
Sabbath  comes,  and  we  see  the  same  bright,  hap- 
j)y  creatures,  only  more  softened  and  subdued, 
sitting  in  the  house  of  God,  listening  to  his  words 
who  called  little  children  unto  him  and  blessed 
them,  we  thank  God,  and  say,  "  Blessed  be  the 
Sabbath  and  the  Sabbath  school ! " 


HEAVEN  HERE. 


BY  REV.   J.   G.  ADAMS. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  then  ?  Live  wholly  for  this  world  1  My 
mind  revolts  at  the  idea.  My  spirit  was  not  moulded  to  be 
satisfied  with  such  a  life."  —  Letter  from  a  Friend. 

Art  thou  not   satisfied  with   earth  —  its  transitory 
light : 

Will  it  not  yield  thee  happiness ;  or  are  there  skies 
more  bright 

O'er  which  thy  spirit  longs  to  cast  its  ever-watchful 
eye,  * 

And  read  the  glory  of  a  world  where  love  can  never 
die  ? 

Mount  upward,  then  !  but  deem  not  that  thy  duties 

here  must  end  ; 
Live  to  thy  God,  in  spirit  pure  —  yet  thy  free  powers 

still  lend, 

To  make  the  way  of  others  bright,  and  give  them  this 
to  know, 

That  duties  all  are  best  performed  where  God-like 
virtues  grow. 

Mount  upward !  yet  forget  not  that  this  earth  is  still 
thy  home ; 

12 


142  HEAVEN  HERE. 

And  that  thy  God  in  peace  to  every  humble  heart  will 
come ; 

And  thou  shalt  see  him,  if  to  prayer  and  praise  thy  life 
be  given, 

And  know  that  here  the  Christian  soul  may  find  a 
constant  heaven. 


A  SOLDIER  OF  THE  RIGHT  KIND. 


BY  MRS.  M.  H.  ADAMS. 

A  little  boy,  dressed  in  a  cap  with  a  feather, 
and  a  bright  colored  belt,  with,  a  wooden  sword 
and  a  stick  for  a  gun,  went  marching  over  the 
house  "  too-too-tooing,"  as  full  of  war  and  fight- 
ing as  any  Mexican.  He  came  up  close  to  hit 
mother  to  shoot  her.  She  took  no  notice  of 
him.  He  pointed  his  gun,  and  hallooed  to  her 
to  take  care  or  he  should  kill  her.  She  kept 
quietly  sewing,  and  the  little  boy  said,  "  Why 
don't  you  fight,  mother  ?" 

The  mother  replied,  "  Christ  tells  me  not  to 
fight  with  the  sword.  He  told  his  soldiers  not 
to  use  it ;  and  I  wish  to  be  Christ's  soldier." 

"  What  did  Christ's  soldiers  fight  with,  if  they 
did  not  have  swords,  mother  ?  " 

"  With  good  and  holy  words,  my  son." 

"Well,  what  did  they  fight  with?  Good 
words  would  not  kill  men,  mother." 

"  No,  dear,  they  did  not  fight  with  men,  but 
with  sin.  Good  words  and  good  actions  kill 
sin 


144 


A  SOLDIER  OF  THE  RIGHT  KIND. 


"  Who  were  Christ's  soldiers  ?  " 

"  His  disciples ;  those  who  believe  and  obey 
Christ ;  those  who  taught  the  people  what  Christ 
had  taught  them." 

"  Is  father  Christ's  soldier  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  teaches  the  people  not  to  fight,  but 
to  live  in  peace  ;  to  love  one  another,  and  try  to 
forgive  each  other,  instead  of  fighting  and  going 
to  war." 

"  How  can  I  be  Christ's  soldier,  mother  ?  " 

"  By  trying  to  do  no  sin  yourself,  and  telling 
your  little  playmates,  when  they  sin,  not  to 
do  so  again,  but  be  good  and  love  one  another. 
You  may  be  one  by  speaking  against  what  you 
feel  to  be  wrong,  wherever  you  are  ;  by  being 
good  and  pure  yourself,  and  trying  to  make 
others  so." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  think  I  will  not  play  fight 
again,  like  the  naughty  men,  but  I  will  try  to 
do  as  father  does." 

Will  the  war-spirit  conquer  the  spirit  of 
peace  in  that  child's  heart,  if  such  teachings 
go  with  him  up  to  manhood  ? 

Will  it  prevail  in  any  child's  heart,  if  it  be 
made  to  understand  the  spirit  of  Christ  and  his 
gospel  ? 

If  children  be  taught  of  Christ  and  the  Holy 
Spirit,  will  not  many  soldiers  of  the  cross  be 


A  SOLDIER  OF  THE  RIGHT  KIND.  145 

raised  up  to  bless  the  world  in  future  years,  by 
the  most  peaceful  and  benignant  influences  ? 

Mothers,  shall  we  not  do  it?    Fathers,  are 
you  of  the  Christian  band,  and  will  you  fail  to 
do  it  ?    Let  us  to  the  work ! 
12* 


A  STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


BY  MRS.   MARGARET  M.  MASON. 

A  story  for  the  Annual !  Well,  what  shall  I 
write?  A  story  for  children?  Yes,  a  story  for 
children,  though  older  people,  I  find,  read  the 
Annual  with  much  pleasure.  But,  as  it  is  de- 
signed for  children,  I  think  I  will  write  something 
about  childhood. 

Many  scenes  of  childhood  I  love  to  look  back 
upon.  Who  does  not?  Methinks  there  is  room 
in  the  heart  of  every  human  being  for  his  birth- 
place. Methinks,  too,  that  there  are  some 
flowers  which  blossomed  on  either  side  of  the 
pathway  of  childhood,  which  all  consider  well 
worth  preserving. 

When  I  was  about  three  years  of  age  my 
mother  died.  After  this  event,  an  old  lady,  who 
had  been  much  in  our  family,  took  care  of  me. 
Being  too  young  to  feel  the  loss  of  my  mother,  it 
was  easily  supplied  by  this  aged  woman.  I  be- 
came much  attached  to  her.  My  father  was 
poor,  and  toiled  for  a  livelihood  upon  the  sea. 
At  length  he  found  it  necessary  to  break  up 


A  STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


147 


house-keeping,  and  to  put  me  under  the  care  of  a 
friend  of  his,  in  whom  he  placed  confidence. 
After  my  removal  to  the  house  of  this  new  guar- 
dian, my  old  friend  would  not  forget  me.  She 
visited  me  often,  and  I  loved  her  next  to  my 
father.  Being  old  and  poor,  she  was  supported 
by  the  town.  She  had  sustained  herself,. with 
what  little  aid  she  could  get  from  a  few  individ- 
uals or  families,  as  long  as  possible. 

Mrs.  M^^^,  who  had  the  care  of  the  town's 
poor,  was  a  good,  kind-hearted  lady.  So  I  felt 
that  my  old  foster-mother  would  be  properly 
treated.  Poor  old  lady !  I  never  shall  forget 
how  glad  she  was  to  see  me  the  first  time  I  vis- 
ited her  after  she  was  settled  in  her  new  home. 
How  nice  her  little  chamber  looked!  The  low 
but  neat  bed  that  stood  at  one  corner  of  the  room, 
the  small  table  over  which  hung  a  little  lookina:- 
glass,  the  fire-place  with  its  clean  red  hearth, 
and  the  closet  into  which  the  old  lady  was  care- 
ful I  should  look,  — all  these  made  me  feel  that, 
although  she  was  very  poor,  she  was  far  from 
unhappy,  or  without  comfort.  Oh,  how  many 
happy  hours  I  have  spent  with  her  in  that  little 
chamber !  I  always,  when  the  weather  would 
permit,  spent  the  Sabbath  with  her  ;  and  the 
friend  with  whom  I  lived,  would  often  give  me 
some  delicacy  for  her,  or  provide  something,  and 


148 


A   STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


send  it  to  her  by  me,  for  her  comfort,  and  I 
always  selected  such  books  as  I  thought  she 
would  like,  and  would  read  them  to  her.  Oh, 
those  were,  indeed,  happy  hours  !  I  delighted  to 
gaze  upon  that  face,  wrinkled  as  it  was.  It  had 
a  charm  to  me  that  I  could  see  in  no  other.  She 
always  looked  upon  me  in  so  kindly  a  manner, 
and  spoke  to  me  with  so  mild  and  sweet  a  voice, 
I  could  not  be  happier  than  when  by  her,  or  hear- 
ing her  speak. 

She  never  seemed  tired  of  answering  my 
questions  about  my  mother, — that  dear  one, 
whose  countenance  I  could  not  remember,  whose 
voice  I  had  forgotten,  but  whose  features  and 
tones  were  so  familiar  to  her.  Over  and  over 
she  would  describe  my  mother  to  me.  And  then 
how  I  wished  that  I  could  remember  my  mother, 
that  I  had  her  image  on  my  heart,  to  carry  it 
with  me  through  life,  as  an  invaluable  treasure ! 

That  mother  slept  in  the  grave-yard,  not  far 
from  where  I  lived.  It  was  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  road  on  which  I  walked  to  school. 
Whenever  I  walked  alone,  and  was  not  fearful  of 
reaching  school  late,  I  visited  my  mother's  grave, 
and  kneeling  beside  it,  asked  her  to  watch  over 
me  and  teach  me  to  do  right.  Several  times  I 
was  punished  for  arriving  late  at  school,  because 
I  would  not  deny  that  I  had  stopped  or  played  on 


A  STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


149 


the  way,  and  could  not  tell  the  teacher  that  I  had 
been  to  my  mother's  grave. 

I  always  felt  that  my  mother  was  very  near 
me,  and  could  see  me,  though  I  could  not  look 
upon  her.  And  this  feeling  of  mine  was  strength- 
ened by  the  old  lady,  who  often  told  me  that  she 
believed  that  the  spirits  of  the  departed  could 
visit  and  watch  over  us. 

One  night,  having  fallen  asleep  while  thinking 
of  my  mother,  I  thought  I  awoke,  and  saw  a 
beautiful  being  rising  before  me.  As  it  ap- 
proached me,  I  raised  my  arms  to  clasp  the  heav- 
enly form.  It  looked  smilingly  upon  me,  and 
then  vanished  away.  After  the  morning,  I 
thought  the  angel  was  my  mother.  I  had  be- 
lieved that  she  was  with  me  wherever  I  went  by 
day,  but  I  had  not  thought  that  she  watched 
over  me  when  I  slept  by  night.  I  told  no  one 
but  the  old  lady  of  ray  vision.  She,  seeing  it 
made  me  so  happy,  did  not  tell  me  it  was  merely 
a  dream. 

Oh,  how  I  wished  1  had  a  home  into  which  I 
could  lead  the  old  lady,  and  watch  over  and  wait 
upon  her  through  her  remaining  days  !  for 
when  I  looked  into  her  dim  eyes,  I  knew  her 
sight  was  fast  fading-,  that  she  would  soon  sink 
into  the  grave,  and  I  feared  that  she  would  be 
unhappy.     Bat  she  did  not  become  so.  She 


♦ 


150 


A  STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


became  blind,  and  the  light  of  our  world  was 
shut  out  from  her  forever.  Nevertheless,  she 
continued  resigned  and  cheerful  in  God.  When 
she  looked  towards  me  with  her  sightless  eyes, 
or  stretched  forth  her  trembling  hands  to  take  hold 
of  something  with  which  to  support  herself,  I 
could  not  keep  from  weeping.  Then  she  would 
try  to  sooth  me,  by  telling  me  how  much  she  had 
left  to  herself  to  make  her  happy,  and  by  speak- 
ing to  me  of  the  beautiful  home  to  which  she 
was  fast  hastening,  where  she  would  be  no 
longer  blind,  and  pain  and  sickness  would  never 
reach  her  more. 

ilfe  dfe  $k  dfc  -4k 

-7v-  -7f-  Tv-  -7C-  -rf 

It  was  the  season  of  winter.  For  some  days 
the  snow  had  been  falling  lightly,  and  the  earth 
was  deeply  covered  with  it.  Through  these 
days  I  could  not  see  the  dear  old  friend.  At 
length  the  snow  ceased  to  fall,  and  near  the  close 
of  a  very  cold  day,  a  friend  of  mine  called  upon 
*■  me  to  tell  me  that  she  was  dying.  Before  many 
minutes  passed,  I  was  on  my  way  to  her  bed-side. 
Oh,  how  my  hand  shook  when  I  lifted  the  latch 
of  her  door  !  But  the  hope  of  seeing  her  alive 
gave  me  strength,  and  I  soon  stood  near  her. 
She  was  alive,  but  she  had  not  spoken  for  several 
hours.    Yet,  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  she  ex- 


A  STORY  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 


1-51 


claimed,  "It  is  she  —  God  bless  her  !  "  Those 
were  her  last  words. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  I  stood  by  her 
grave  ;  but  I  shall  not  forget  her.  Nor  will  the 
many  good  lessons  that  she  taught  me  be  for- 
gotten. 

My  little  readers  !  listen  to  the  teachings  of 
the  aged  and  poor,  and  always  be  kind  to  such. 
You  cannot  tell  how  acceptable  your  words  of 
love  and  your  amiable  manners  will  be  to  them. 
It  will  be  pleasant  to  you  to  hear  them  say,  "  God 
bless  you." 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


BY  MIS3  JULIA  A.  FLETCHER. 

Dear  Uncle  Charles !  How  we  children  all 
used  to  love  him  !  I  heard  a  young  lady  say 
once,  that  nobody  liked  old  bachelors,  and  I 
thought  if  she  had  only  seen  Uncle  Charles  as 
he  used  to  sit  in  his  library,  and  talk  with  the 
little  folks,  she  would  have  said  something  quite 
different  from  that.  Certainly  all  the  boys  and 
girls  in  the  neighborhood  loved  him,  and  they 
would  gather  around  him,  listening  and  asking 
questions  many  hours  together. 

One  of  these  boys  afterwards  became  an  artist , 
that  is,  he  learned  to  draw  and  paint  pictures, 
and  a  short  time  since,  1  saw  one  in  his  room, 
that  made  my  heart  glad  even  to  look  at  it.  I 
have  persuaded  Mr.  Usher  to  have  it  engraved 
and  published  in  the  "  Sabbath  School  Annual," 
so  that  all  our  good  children  can  see  it ;  for  of 
course  they  all  read  the  Annual. 

There  is  the  very  room  where  we  used  to  meet, 
and  the  same  old-fashioned  arm-chair,  with  its 
high,  broad  back,  and  dear  Uncle  Charles  him- 


SUNDAY  MORNING 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


155 


self  sitting  in  it.  How  natural  he  looks !  I 
kissed  the  picture  again  and  again  when  I  first 
saw  it,  for  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  the  good 
old  man  himself.  How  well  he  has  painted  that 
pleasant  smile,  and  those  kind  eyes,  and  the  high 
forehead,  with  the  baldness  which  never  looks 
other  than  well  to  us,  because  it  reminds  us  of 
Uncle  Charles  !  Yet  I  remember,  when  I  was  a 
very  little  child,  he  had  light,  soft,  brown  hair, 
that  curled  all  around  his  forehead,  just  as  the 
little  boy's  does  in  the  picture.  I  mean  the 
boy  who  is  standing  behind  the  chair,  gazing  up 
into  the  clouds.  That  is  our  cousin  Albert,  the 
very  one  who  afterwards  drew  the  picture. 
There  is  William,  too,  pointing  eagerly  to  a  bird 
that  seems  coming  to  look  at  us.  The  birds 
might  have  looked  in,  and  the  angels  too,  with 
gladness  ;  for  never  were  Sabbath  mornings 
spent  more  happily  and  holily,  than  in  that  little 
library  room. 

We  had  no  Sunday  school  to  attend,  for  we 
lived  in  a  small  village,  and  this  was  a  great 
many  years  ago,  when  there  were  very  few  Sun- 
day schools,  and  those  only  in  large  places.  So 
Uncle  Charles  used  to  let  us  come  to  his  room 
every  Sunday  morning,  and  talk  with  us  there. 

You  may  be  sure  we  used  to  come  every  Sab- 
bath. We  had  no  staying  away  because  it  was 
13 


158 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


cloudy,  or  because  we  had  the  headache  ;  no,  nor 
even  if  it  rained  hard,  for  we  used  to  put  on  our 
over-shoes,  and  start  off,  with  our  old  bonnets 
and  cloaks  on.  That  is  often  the  reason  chil- 
dren, and  grown-up  people  too,  are  afraid  of 
going-  to  church  in  a  storm.  It  is  not  that  they 
are  afraid  of  getting  wet  themselves,  but  they 
are  afraid  of  spoiling  their  nice  clothes. 

We  always  had  a  pleasant  word  and  a  kind 
welcome  from  Uncle  Charles  when  we  arrived, 
and  then  the  happy  hours  we  passed  with  him  !  — 
I  grow  a  very  child  again,  when  I  think  of  them. 
He  had  many  books,  from  which  he  used  to  teach 
us,  and  he  would  tell  us  many  things  which  had 
happened  in  his  own  life,  describing  places  he 
had  visited,  and  people  he  had  seen.  He  would 
teach  us  some  good  lesson  from  everything 
around  us,  and  from  every  little  incident  that 
happened  to  us.  The  flowers  we  gathered  on 
our  way,  the  sky  that  smiled  through  the  library 
window,  the  tree  that  threw  a  soft  shade  over  it, 
all  were  to  him  subjects  for  our  Sabbath  lessons, 
and  holy  lessons  they  furnished,  too. 

All  the  while  he  was  talking  to  us,  his  dog 
Carlo  —  good,  faithful  Carlo  !  —  would  sit  by  his 
side,  and  look  up  into  our  faces,  as  if  he  wished 
us  to  understand  it  all,  though  he,  poor  fellow, 
did  not.    And  there,  in  the  picture,  is  the  very 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


157 


cane  Uncle  Charles  always  carried.  We  all 
knew  the  history  of  that  cane.  It  was  an  orange- 
tree  stick,  cut  from  the  groves  of  Florida  with 
his  own  hands,  and  he  had  never  allowed  it  to 
be  spoiled  by  paint  or  polishing.  Very  beautiful 
did  it  seem  to  us,  and  very  curious  to  our  young 
eyes,  which  had  not  seen  so  many  things  then 
as  they  have  now. 

A  happy  group  we  were  those  pleasant  Sab- 
bath mornings.  There  was  Thomas,  with  his 
earnest,  thoughtful  look ;  and  Charlie,  the  pet 
namesake  of  our  dear  instructor  ;  and  then  there 
was  Mary,  and  George,  and  Harriet,  and  —  why  ! 
I  declare,  Cousin  Albert  has  quite  slighted  me ; 
he  has  not  put  me  into  the  picture  !  He  should 
have  painted  me  with  my  little  chair  close  to 
Uncle  Charles'  knee,  like  Carlo,  contented  to 
sit  there,  and  look  up  lovingly  into  his  face, 
whether  I  understood  his  words  or  not.  I  could 
at  least  understand  the  love-language  that  was 
written  all  over  his  countenance  as  he  spoke,  and 
I  have  never  since  forgotten  it.  Many  years 
have  passed  away  since  then,  and  our  dear  Un- 
cle Charles  has  gone  to  dwell  with  the  kind 
Father  of  whom  he  so  often  taught  us.  They 
buried  him  by  the  river  side,  within  sight  of  the 
window  in  that  peasant  library  room  where  we 
used  to  meet.    The  blue  waves  pass  calmly  by 


158 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


his  grave,  and  the  happy  birds  sing  around  it , 
but,  for  many  years  after,  youthful  heads  were 
bowed  upon  it,  and  tears  fell  from  youthful  eyes 
for  "  dear  Uncle  Charles." 

Even  now  that  we  have  all  become  men  and 
women,  and  are  dwelling  far  away  from  that 
quiet  village,  and  far  away  from  each  other,  we 
think  often  of  him,  and  bless  God  for  the  lessons 
he  taught  us.  Every  Sabbath  morn,  as  we  go  up 
to  our  places  in  the  Sabbath  school,  —  for  we  have 
all  become  teachers  there,  though  not  in  the  same 
school,  ■ —  we  remember  how  kindly  and  earnest- 
ly he  used  to  talk  with  us.  And  we  pray,  then, 
in  our  hearts,  that  we  may  be  able  to  do  good  to 
our  pupils,  as  he  did  good  to  us  ;  that  they,  too, 
may  have  their  hearts  filled  with  holy  lessons, 
and  in  after  years  have  many  pleasant  remem- 
brances of  Sunday  morning. 


H5H 


HYMN. 


BY  MRS.  S.  E.  E.  MAYO. 

[  I  hope  this  hymn  will  be  very  precious  to  the 
young  readers  of  the  Sabbath  School  Annual, 
as  it  came  from  one  who  dearly  loved  children, 
and  eagerly  contributed  to  increase  the  pleasure 
of  our  school-festivals.  I  found  it  in  looking 
over  her  letters  since  her  death,  it  having  been 
sent  me  for  use  at  an  "  exhibition,"  but  was  re- 
ceived too  late,  and  afterwards  was  forgotten. 
Mrs.  Mayo,  previous  to  her  marriage,  was  a 
teacher  in  the  Sabbath  school,  and  hallowed 
must  be  the  memories  of  her  in  the  scholars  who 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  such  a  teacher. — 
H.  B  N.j 

O'er  Zion's  hill  we  tread, 
A  bright  and  youthful  band  : 

No  slippery  rock  we  dread, 
While  clinging  to  thy  hand  — 

Thou  God  of  love,  thou  holy  One, 

Our  staff,  our  refuge,  and  our  sun  ! 

Distil  thy  gentle  truth 

Upon  our  hearts,  dear  Lord  ! 
13* 


HYMN. 


And  teach  our  wayward  youth 

The  wisdom  of  thy  word, 
That  we  may  meet  the  tempter's  wile, 
And  turn  away  and  proudly  smile  ! 

Fondly  we  '11  learn  to  love 

Our  Maker,  and  our  God, 
As  through  the  path  we  move 

Where  his  dear  Son  hath  trod  ; 
And  on  our  bended  knees,  will  pray 
For  purer  spirits  day  by  day. 

Then  shall  we  see  his  face  — 

The  holy  One  on  high  !> 
And  feel  his  melting  grace, 

And  know  his  presence  nigh. 
With  joy  we  woo  the  chastening  rod, 
That  makes  us  pure  to  see  our  God. 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPEN* 
DENCE, 

AND  THE  BELL  THAT  ANNOUNCED  IT, 

BY  REV.  HENRY  BACON. 

Oh,  'twas  a  noble  sight  to  see 

That  grand,  heroic  band, 
As  there  in  Congress  grave  they  met 

To  pledge  each  heart  and  hand  ! 
Appalling  were  the  scenes  of  blood, 

Through  which  their  course  must  lie ; 
Yet  bold  for  freedom  and  their  rights 

They  vowed  to  live  or  die  ! 
To  live  or  die  as  freemen  all, 

To  burst  the  tyrant's  chain, 
And  wake  from  freedom's  harp  and  trump 

The  sweetest,  loftiest  strain. 
Oh,  't  was  a  solemn  hour  for  them  !  — 

Yes,  for  the  world  of  men, — 
As  there  the  Instrument  unrolled 

Lay  by  the  ink  and  pen. 
And  will  they  sign  ?  aye,  will  they  dare 

To  fling  their  banner  out, 
And  wake  through  all  the  land  around 

Glad  freedom's  glorious  shout  ? 


162     THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


A  Bellman  on  the  turret  high 

Stood  waiting  for  the  call 
That  should  assure  the  world  the  deed 

Was  nobly  done  by  all. 
'T  was  his  to  ring  that  olden  bell, 
That  had  a  prophet's  tone,  — 
"  Proclaim,"  it  said,  "  fair  freedom's  gifts 

Shall  to  the  land  be  known." 
"Ah,  will  they  sign  ?"  the  old  man  said, 

As  by  the  bell  he  stood  ; 
"  I  fear  me  they  will  shrink  from  paths 
Of  battle  and  of  blood  !" 
Each  moment  seemed  an  hour  then, 

As  fear  was  in  his  heart, 
Until,  at  length,  he  left  the  bell, 
Impatient  to  depart. 
"  Hold  on  /  "  a  little  boy  exclaimed,  — 
"  I 'm  sure  they  '11  sign  it,  all ! 
I  see  them,  one  by  one,  write  now, 
For  God  is  in  that  hall !" 

The  boy  was  right —  the  deed  was  done ! 

America  is  free  ! 
They 've  plighted  all  beneath  the  sun 

To  God  and  Liberty  ! 
The  hero  boy  now  clapped  his  hands, 

And  to  the  Bellman  cried,  — 
"  Ring!  Ring  !  !  "  and  lo  !  the  old  bell  rang 

The  glory  far  and  wide. 
The  music  of  that  grand  old  bell 

Went  through  the  lands  afar. 


THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  163 


And  man  and  child  looked  out  to  see 
The  new-made  nation's  star. 

Oh,  were  there  now  a  bell  so  high, 

So  loud,  for  worlds  to  hear, 
I  ;d  love  to  have  the  Bellman  nigh 

To  ring  it  loud  and  clear, 
When  to  the  Temperance  Pledge  men  give, 

In  earnestness  of  soul, 
Their  names,  and  vow  to  nobly  live, 

As  did  that  valiant  roll  ! 

Sign  !  brother,  sign  !  the  Bell  of  God, 

Shall  ring  it  far  and  wide  ; 
A  good  deed  goes  unseen  abroad, 

As  wind  goes  with  the  tide. 


EXTRACT  FROM  AN  ADDRESS  ON 
THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 


BY  REV.  H.  C.  LEONARD. 

No  one  lives  alone  and  uncared  for.  The 
most  obscure  individual  in  the  land  is  loved  and 
prayed  for  by  some  of  his  kind.  These  behold 
him  as  a  kindred  being ;  and,  as  a  near  relation, 
some  respect  is  cherished  for  him.  No  one  can 
depart  from  earth  unnoticed  and  unaided.'  There 
are  always  some  who  weep  when  a  spirit  ascends 
to  God  who  gave  it.  Rich  and  poor,  the  learned 
and  the  ignorant,  the  aged,  the  youthful,  and  the 
tender  infant,  pass  away  from  the  earth,  and  for 
all  is  the  tribute  of  tears  sincerely  bestowed. 

That  man  is  connected  with  man,  and  is  not  to 
be  separated  from  kindred,  in  this  or  the  spiritual 
world,  is  a  great  truth  of  the  Christian  religion. 
There  is  no  sword  in  the  hand  of  God,  which 
cuts  asunder  the  ties  of  relationship  that  bind 
|  and  hold  together  the  inhabitants  of  earth  or  the 
spirits  in  heaven.  And  they  are  not  only  bound 
by  cords  of  relationship,  but  live,  and  move,  and 
have  existence  in  God.    They  are  all  the  off- 


ADDRESS  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD,  165 


spring  of  God,  sustained  and  protected  by  his 
spirit.  They  all  share  the  blessings  which  come 
from  his  bountiful  hand.  "  No  one  liveth  to 
himself,  no  one  dieth  to  himself.  For  whether 
we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord,  and  whether  we 
die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord.  Whether  we  live, 
therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's.  For  to  this 
end  Christ  both  died  and  rose,  and  revived,  that 
he  might  be  Lord  both  of  the  dead  and  the  living." 

It  is  a  great  doctrine  of  the  Christian  religion, 
that  all  souls  are  the  subjects  of  God's  parental 
government.  This  doctrine  is  more  likely  than 
any  other  to  induce  us  to  live  good  and  holy  lives. 
It  is  better  than  any  other  to  strengthen  and 
prepare  us  for  the  hour  of  death,  and  give  us 
hope  when  our  friends  are  led  away  from  us  by 
the  hand  of  death. 

We  are  conscious  that  a  Father's  power  will 
do  more  than  the  largest  human  benevolence  or 
compassion  will  pray  for.  It  is  omnipotent. 
There  will  be  no  opposing  energy  sufficient  to 
prevent  it  from  accomplishing  the  great  purposes 
of  the  Most  High.  It  will  draw  souls  after  souls 
into  the  way  of  wisdom,  goodness  and  heaven, 
until  the  last  child  of  God  shall  be  brought  into 
the  Father's  house. 

A  little  child  has  recently  departed  from  our 
midst.    We  have  here  with  us  the  fair  form  in 


166       ADDRESS  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 

which  she  moved.  Its  head  is  yet  symmetrical 
in  shape,  its  face  still  wears  a  pleasant  expres- 
sion, and  its  dimpled  arms  and  hands  are  still 
beautiful.  But  these  are  dust.  We  shall  affec- 
tionately place  the  form  into  its  grave,  and  cover 
it  with  the  mould  and  turf  of  the  earth.  In 
coming  days  we  shall  visit  its  place  of  sleep, 
and  nourish  the  trees  and  flowers  that  will  grow 
around  its  little  mound.  But  we  will  not  think 
that  the  being  that  once  dwelt  in  this  form,  is  yet 
with  it.  We  will  believe  that  the  thought  and 
affection  of  the  child  are  raised  to  heaven,  and 
are  in  the  care  of  angels.  The  soul  does  not 
die.  The  rose-bud  that  was  just  opening  its 
green,  outside  leaves,  and  showing  its  inner 
loveliness  and  beauty,  is  not  permitted  to  unfold 
itself  wholly  on  the  earth.  The  hand  of  Love 
has  transplanted  it  in  the  land  of  richer  soil, 
more  nourishing  showers,  and  milder,  balmier 
airs.  In  that  bright  land  it  will  perfectly  and 
beautifully  unfold  its  leaves,  and  be  an  ornament 
in  the  garden  of  God. 

When  we  shall  contemplate  the  flowers  around 
the  mound  of  this  body's  grave,  let  us  be  re- 
minded by  them  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
The  flowers  will  spring  up,  and  show  themselves 
for  a  while,  and  then  they  will  die.  But,  in  fu- 
ture years,  the  same  element  that  formed  and 


ADDRESS  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD.  167 


exhibited  these  flowers,  will  form  and  exhibit 
flowers  again.  They  will  repeat  their  work  of 
love,  and  cheer  the  world  with  beauty,  and  fill 
the  atmosphere  with  fragrance.  Thus,  all  that 
has  been  really  good  and  beautiful  in  the  child 
will  continue  to  exist,  and  to  be  a  blessing  to  us. 
We  have  seen  the  child  in  our  earthly  year; 
when  we  shall  enter  upon  our  eternal  year,  we 
shall  see  her  again  in  a  more  beautiful  and 
agreeable  form. 

The  river  will  continually  flow  in  its  coursi 
by  the  enclosure  in  which  this  form  will  be  laid 
Its  waters  will  flow  into  the  sea,  for  the  sea  if 
their  great  source.  Thus  the  river  will  remind 
us,  that  the  dust  returns  to  dust  as  it  was,  and 
the  spirit  to  God  who  gave  it. 

But  the  lessons  of  the  Great  Teacher  will 
comfort  us  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner. 
They  impart  to  us  distinctly,  a  knowledge  of  the 
greatness,  worth,  and  immortality  of  human  na- 
ture. They  impart  to  us  a  knowledge  of  the 
value  of  the  minds  of  children.  Said  the  Sa- 
viour :  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me, 
and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom." 
And  he  took  little  children  into  his  arms  and 
blest  them.  Let  the  words  of  Christ  be  your 
comfort  and  consolation,  my  friends,  in  this  hour 
of  affliction  and  grief.    He,  the  truth,  the  way, 


168       ADDKESS  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  CHILD. 

and  the  life,  will  kindly  teach  and  lead  your 
child  in  the  bright  paths  of  life,  of  holiness  and 
peace. 

To  the  child,  the  days  of  sin,  or  danger,  or 
sorrow,  or  sickness,  or  pain,  are  not  to  be  known. 
She  will  live  and  unfold  her  faculties  where 
there  are  no  temptations  to  lead  astray,  no  dan- 
ger to  fear,  no  sickness  to  wear  and  take  the  life 
away. 

I  beseech  you,  finally,  to  have  confidence  in 
God,  who  is  love,  and  whose  ways  are  all  benev- 
olent. Everywhere  and  always  he  manifests 
the  spirit  of  mercy.  He  giveth  and  he  taketh 
away.    Let  us  desire  that  his  will  may  be  done. 


SABBATH  MORNING. 


BY  REV.  J.  G.  ADAMS. 

Sabbath  morning  !   Holy  time  ! 

Let  me  hail  thy  presence  now  ; 
In  thy  gospel  light  sublime, 

At  the  Father's  footstool  bow. 

Morn  of  beauty  and  of  love  ! 

Opening  heaven  'mid  scenes  of  earth, 
As  we  raise  our  hearts  above, 

To  new  glories  giving  birth ! 

Morn  of  peace  !  The  world  how  still ! 

Only  echoing  far  away, 
Over  forest,  vale  and  hill, 

Church  bells  speak  of  praise  to-day. 

Morn  of  rest !    From  toil  and  care 
Bid  our  weary  souls  be  free  ; 

Help  us,  if  we  would  prepare 
Thy  great  Source  of  light  to  see. 


SABBATH  MORNING. 


Morn  of  Christian  truth  and  grace  ! 

Brighter  shall  thy  radiance  glow, 
As  God's  children  learn  to  trace 

Christ's  great  mission  here  below 


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